The Whole and More Than All
by Artemis Rae
Summary: With tensions rising in Rush Valley, Ed makes a decision that permanently impacts his relationship with Winry and the way they relate to each other. Set in a post-manga world, with minor attempts at worldbuilding. Written for the LJ contest fma big bang.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Whole and More Than All  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing/Characters:** Ed/Winry, with appearances from Alphonse, Roy, Garfield and the Rush Valley crew.  
**Word Count:** 24, 907  
**Summary:** With tensions rising in Rush Valley, Ed makes a decision that permanently impacts his relationship with Winry and the way they relate to each other. Set in a post-manga world, with minor attempts at worldbuilding.  
**A/N:** Written for the Livejournal community **fma_big_bang**. About a year and a half ago I had a dream about a sequel to COS that was a western and took place in Rush Valley; somehow it mutated into this manga-verse fanfic.

First off, let me thank my betas: **juxtaposie**, because she is my daily cheerleader/drill sergeant. This fic would not exist without her. **pandoraculpa**, who has given me invaluable feedback over the course of writing the story. This fic would not be in this finished state without her. Additional thanks goes to **a_big_apple**, who gave me some suggestions for smoothing out the timeline and fixing the flow of the story. I owe them an enormous amount of gratitude.

Secondly, I also need to thank my big bang artists, **dzioo** and **allegratheneko**, who have created the absolutely fantastic pictures that you see in this fic. I will provide links to their entries at the end of the fic.

* * *

Rush Valley was exactly as hot as he had feared – the kind of hot where he could feel the sun closing up around him until there was nothing but an Ed-shaped pocket in the atmosphere, almost forcing him to forge a physical path through the oppressive air. For a long moment, Ed stood outside the train station, his suitcase clasped loosely in his hand, and took in the bustling scene in front of him. It was a scene that had long since become familiar to him; something that, despite his initial misgivings towards the city, had become a regular destination.

Then with a sigh, he tipped his hat forward and started the walk. Garfield's was just close enough that he couldn't justify hiring a cab, and far away enough that the walk in the rising heat of the early afternoon grew more and more uncomfortable with each and every step.

It hadn't helped that he'd worn long sleeves for the trip out, but they remained a necessary evil for navigating Rush Valley without an escort from Winry. Without the sleeves mechanics tended to get excited and grabby, and as long as Winry was with him people kept their distance. Something about Winry made people be polite. Even when people figured out exactly who Ed was, people stayed polite if Winry was in the vicinity. Ed couldn't blame them. There was something bothersome about upsetting Winry.

People figuring out who he was had turned into another problem. He already had a reputation in Rush Valley, having gotten into two serious fights there before - even now, his eyes were picking out roofs that he'd repaired and porches that he'd fixed - but worse than that was people catching sight of his watch, realizing that he was a State Alchemist and a member of the military, and being forced to watch as recognition rose up in their eyes. Rush Valley had been in an odd, tense, mood of late, and despite (or because) of the fact that a significant number of the men living in Rush Valley were war veterans, all through town active service men were given the stink eye. Or worse.

So Ed always made a special effort to keep his head down. And when he finally got to Garfield's, he knew, Winry would smile at him, and ask if he managed to get through town without finding trouble, no matter how many times he protested that it was trouble that found him.

As he walked, he wondered if he should stop and pick something up. He had gifts from Central, sure - a few cookbooks passed onto him from Gracia, and some photographs from the previous New Year's celebration that he knew she'd never seen - but maybe he needed something else. Chocolates, or flowers, or something.

They'd been dating for a few years now, but these were the types of things he was still struggling with, even this far into their relationship. He made Winry happy, he was pretty sure - mostly because Granny Pinako had yet to knock his skull in - but a lot of the time when he was unsure of something he had to stop and think about whether or not Al would frown at him before he decided what action to take.

He realized suddenly that he'd stopped walking and was staring at a storefront. An older man, sitting outside and cradling an arm, gave him a look from under the brim of his hat. "You buyin'?" he asked Ed in a gruff tone. Then, his eyes straying to Ed's suitcase, asked suspiciously, "Or sellin'?"

Ed stared at the wires spilling out of the arm. "Buying." He answered, and then, with the smirk properly in place, added, "If you got a deal on what I'm lookin' for."

The man's entire attitude changed in a heartbeat. He jumped up from his chair and beckoned Ed into the shade of the store. "You don't stay in business in Rush Valley unless you got talent or you got deals. I got both, so I actually turn a profit."

Ed grinned and ducked his head to follow the shopkeeper inside, making a mental note to pay with cash instead of credit.

* * *

He heard a commotion as he approached Garfield's. Raised voices were coming from within the shop and could be heard clearly down the street. _One_ raised voice, actually, once Ed started really listening. It wasn't unusual for voices to be raised in Garfield's for any number of reasons: Paninya had ticked Garfield off, or both were teasing Winry, or an automail fitting was going awry, but this was unusual. This was a dark, deep voice, clearly shouting in anger. Ed could hear the bellowing on the wind, carried out the open store front.

Ed picked up his pace, curious and somewhat concerned. The stretch of shops where Garfield's was located was silent, and though Ed was sure everyone was inside and actually working, it seemed strange to him how deserted everything suddenly looked; it was almost like the entire block was trying to politely look away from an awkward situation, like they didn't want to be caught eavesdropping.

As he got closer the shouting formed words: _"You are all crazy if you think you can stop me from getting them! I will not be treated this way!"_

Ed was up to a light jog at this point, and about to make the turn into the shop – just as another body came barreling out of the door. It was like running into a wall, and Ed, unprepared, hit the dirt. His belongings scattered, and somewhere in his shock of surprise heard a voice growl, "Watch it, punk."

He sat up, rubbing his shoulder where they'd connected and watched the figure stalking away through the cloud of dirt that'd been raised when he fell. Clearly one of Rush Valley's finest, with arms the size of locomotors and a back as broad as the street was wide. If it weren't for the dark hair, slicked back from his forehead, Ed might have thought he could have been an Armstrong.

Watching as the man trudged down the street, Ed couldn't help wondering what that had been all about, and as a result didn't notice –

"There you are." Winry's relieved voice interrupted his reverie. Slightly startled, he realized he was still sitting in the dirt. Winry was leaning over him, frowning. "The trains are running on time today, Ed. I checked. You're late. I was beginning to think you'd picked another fight or something."

He scowled as he took her hand, letting her help him up. "People pick fights with me," he insisted. "I never look for a fight."

"Is that so?" she gave him an appraising look. Automatically, he drifted towards her, his arm casually reaching behind her back as if to curl her close to him, heat and public be damned. "So what were you doing then?" she challenged.

"Oh!" he bent over, picking up his belongings, scrabbling for the bits of wire that had been tossed as he went down.

Hastily, he rearranged them in his hand. Grimacing – they'd looked much nicer a minute ago, neatly packed in their multicolor bundles, separated by gauge – he presented them to Winry. "For you." An automail mechanic's version of a bouquet of flowers.

Winry beamed, and Ed felt his heart speed up a little bit. Even now, her smile did that to him. "Thank you Ed! I can use these –"

"Winry? Is he gone?" Garfield appeared in the doorway now as well, and the expression on his face was one that Ed had never seen before: frowning, unamused, his eyes squinted in irritation. Then his gaze landed on Ed, and instantly brightened. "Edward! You did make it! Come in off the street."

"Look!" Winry thrust out her hand, showing Garfield her gift. "We were just talking about trying three gauge wire on fifth digit joints!"

"Well that was awfully considerate of you Edward." Garfield turned his eyes, now glittering, from the bouquet of wires to Ed. Ed tried hard not to visibly sigh at the look on Garfield's face. As if he didn't get enough teasing in Central. Instead, however, Garfield cast his eyes down the street and then beckoned them inside. "Come in out of the sun then. We have a fresh pitcher of lemonade in the icebox."

He followed Winry inside, through the workshop where Winry and Garfield did the majority of their work and appointments, and through the doorway where their kitchen and bathroom split off from the tiny surgical room they kept prepped in case of emergency. Their patients, for the most part, had their surgeries done at the clinics near the center of town – few of the shops in this area were big enough for a full operating room, like Granny's basement – but the room was kept, just in case. Winry had thought it was strange, when she first started, and Ed knew that while she'd adjusted, she still preferred to do the surgical work herself.

He mostly agreed with Winry – she'd told him stories about coordinating with surgeons in town, exchanging surgical ports and only being allowed to assist in the bare minimum that would satisfy the requirements of her apprenticeship despite the fact that she'd been a surgical assistant since before she hit puberty – and Ed honestly thought it was a bigger hassle than it was worth.

He never said a word, however, and had learned by now to simply listen when Winry talked about work. Winry could get peculiar, if he said the wrong thing, expressed the wrong opinion (even if it was agreeing with her, oddly enough), and these days they didn't get enough time alone together to justify the risk. And it would all be worth it, once her birthday passed and she was released from her apprenticeship.

She appeared in front of him again, holding a glass of lemonade in front of her expectantly. Ed suddenly realized that he was still holding his suitcase, that he hadn't even properly greeted her. He took the glass, set it down firmly on the table, dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her.

She squeaked in surprise and stiffened in his arms before wrapping hers around his neck and returning the embrace. "Hi," he mumbled into her neck.

"Hi," she returned, kissing him on the cheek and grinning at him as he released her. "You wouldn't have thought that I'd seen you just last weekend."

"I could have used you in Central," he replied, sitting down at the table and picking up his drink. "Mustang's been a bigger bastard than usual. If you'd been in town you could've distracted Hawkeye. Everyone knows that he can't get anything done when she's not in the office."

"That's not fair," she protested gently, sitting across from him. "Using me to get out of work. You're not smart enough to think of an excuse?"

"Funny." He sipped his drink. "That's what Al says too. Except then he complains about me distracting him and throws a book at me."

Winry brightened. "Ed, that's good! That means he's understanding the material. Why else would he waste the book on you?"

"Ha." Ed looked down at his glass, and wondered if he should call his brother back in their little apartment in Central and let Al know that he'd had arrived okay. "He probably hasn't even noticed that I've left, he's so wrapped up in his classes."

Out the door, he heard Garfield answer the telephone, and glanced back towards the entrance, frowning. "So what was up with that guy?" he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Winry frowned at him. "Ed, we've been through this. Garfield's just that way-"

"No!" Ed interrupted, scowling at her. "You know who I mean. The big guy who was shouting so loudly I practically heard him back at the train station."

"Oh." Winry's face darkened further. "Him."

Garfield swept into the room then, murmuring apologies for breaking up Ed and Winry's reunion. Winry leaned back into her chair, hooked an arm over the edge, and asked casually, "Master Garfield, how many times do you think Mr. Garrett has hit up the shops around the block?"

Garfield put down the pitcher and tossed his head in thought like an impatient horse. "This has to be at least the third time in as many weeks. Why?" Winry pointed towards Ed, and following her gaze he nodded in understanding. "Mr. Garrett is currently blacklisted from purchasing ammunition from any shops associated with the Guild."

"What?" Ammunition meant he had a weapon. Ed's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

"The usual reason," Winry answered, shrugging. "He got stupid. Most of the people who end up blacklisted are. It's all fine and dandy when they have their arm-wrestling contests -"

"It's nice, actually," Garfield interjected, "Sometimes we get new business,"

"- but it crosses the line when people get angry and innocent people get hurt." Winry finished, giving Garfield a sour look.

"You see, Ed," Garfield pulled out a seat and leveled his gaze. "Automail mechanics like showing off their work. And they're proud of the custom weapons they design for their clients. But it looks bad when a client loses control and does something we'd consider ill-advised with their automail. It doesn't reflect well on the mechanics and the engineers who design those weapons. Blacklisting is the absolute last resort, but Mr. Garrett got caught up in some masculine pissing contest -"

"And destroyed two storefronts and injured three people. Bad enough that one of them is still in the hospital." Winry shook her head. "I'm proud of the work I do but... I don't like the idea that my clients could go out and do something like that."

The words hit Ed like a punch to the stomach. For a moment he groped for words, wondering how to respond and where this feeling had come from, but then Garfield picked up the conversation again. "It used to be," he explained, playing with the condensation on the side of his glass, "that we hardly ever had to blacklist someone. Now the Guild is sending out fresh pictures and an updated list every couple of months."

"My Gran could never be bothered with that firearms stuff," Winry made a face. "I'm starting to see why."

"I never saw the point in them myself," Ed volunteered, fishing an ice cube out of his glass and popping it into his mouth. "It all seems pretty useless to me."

Winry's glare swung full force onto him. "Only because you can transmute your own! I could make you a perfectly good weapon for your automail!" Ed felt that sick pit in his stomach again.

The service bell at the front counter rang, and Winry stood up to answer, still muttering under her breath about Ed. "Transmutes them and then doesn't put it back properly, compromises the structure of the entire piece you know..." Her quiet tirade followed her down the hallway, where it ended abruptly in a cheerful greeting towards a client.

Ed glanced at Garfield, who was smiling at him. Shrugging, he took another sip from his lemonade. "I'm so glad Miss Winry has such a practical boyfriend."

* * *

That conversation was still weighing heavily on his mind that evening, as he stretched across the tiny bed, gazing at the single window in the little room. It was still early enough in spring that the temperature cooled during the night. Winry had left the window open, and the wind was making the blinds bang loudly against the window pane as the curtains fluttered. She boarded upstairs, above the shop, and back in the beginning of their relationship when he'd been uncertain and worried about insulting her honor he'd always rented a small room at an inn whenever he came to visit.

Then she'd simply decided to sleep at the inn with him, despite the fact that Garfield had reassured them both before that he didn't mind if Ed stayed, and scolded Ed for spending the money. They persisted though, if not for reasons of practicality; there was something thrilling about being alone together. The first couple of times she had stayed with him Ed could count among the more nerve-wracking in his life, but now it was nice, and comforting. He liked having her close, felt weirdly empty whenever he had to sleep alone back in his apartment in Central.

He'd made a valiant effort to get some quality time alone after dinner, when they'd stumbled to their room. They'd been holding hands, and Winry had been flushed and giggling, and there had been a few delicious minutes when he'd been able to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close and they'd been able to make up for the lost time spent between weekends when they both worked.

Then she'd laughed, and put a hand warningly on his chest. "I smell awful," she chided him. "I've been working all day. Let me shower first," There'd been an unspoken invitation: _Unless you can't wait and you want to join me?_ In response he'd choked and let her go. He wasn't nearly smooth enough to pull that off, not even if nakedness was nothing new to them. He'd only embarrass himself.

Besides, he'd realized by now that Winry was always worth the wait.

Sprawled out like he was, it was a miracle he didn't fall asleep while he was waiting. But something about their earlier conversation had stuck with him, and he couldn't exactly figure out what it was. He didn't want to pick a fight figuring it out, not now, not when both of their lives kept them apart more often than not, but something was still bothering him.

He sighed and blew his bangs from his eyes. He was making things up. Mustang was working him too hard.

Ed had always vowed once everything was said and done that he'd resign from the military, that he'd never cared anything about the motivations or the perks that appealed to most soldiers, but once the Promised Day had come and passed and true disaster had been averted, Ed had discovered that his debt to Mustang ran beyond a few symbolic cens. He couldn't make himself leave, not yet.

At least Mustang was playing him to his strengths. With Al restored and completely immersed in his classes at a local college, there was no reason for him to travel beyond trips to see Winry. Mustang had recruited him to help revamp the State Alchemist program. He'd wanted everything evaluated, from the entrance exam to the yearly renewals. Ed had suspected that Roy was possibly toying with disbanding the program, with the full knowledge that the rest of the parliament set up after the death of Fuhrer Bradley would probably agree him, unless they could improve it. If they could actually be for the people, actually support the public they were supposed to help…

It was all politics, which was something Ed had never been good at, but he was good at being upfront and telling it like it was, which had actually worked out to his benefit so far. He'd long ago earned the reputation as an alchemist who truly cared for the state's citizens, and he was starting to earn a reputation as a fierce negotiator and a blunt statesman. In general, he found the work fulfilling and he was making a pain in the ass of himself around Central. He knew, because Roy had started off their most recent phone call by reporting that at least three senior politicians had complained of migraines after meeting with Ed.

His biggest complaint about the job, in fact, was that it kept him so separated from Winry. She'd returned to Rush Valley to finish off her apprenticeship, and while Ed supported her – was proud as hell of her, actually – it was the first time he'd really considered the time they spent apart and how very ready he was for it to be over. There'd never been any question in his mind that she was the one he wanted to come home to, though he was careful never to try to analyze that thought any further. He wanted to be able to see her whenever he wanted, that much he knew, and anything more than that, anything about the future or the two of them in that future, tended to fog his mind up.

The end was in sight, at least. Garfield was considering releasing her from her apprenticeship with the passing of her eighteenth birthday in a few months. Winry hadn't said a word about her plans afterwards, but Ed was pretty sure that she would be ready to leave Rush Valley, that he could coax her to Central; if not then definitely back home to Risembool. This project with Mustang wouldn't last forever, and he didn't think he'd mind moving back to the country for a bit.

The shower shut off then, and the door to the bathroom popped open. Even if Ed had been impatient before, Winry coming out of the shower was definitely his reward. It was easily one of the more glorious sights he'd been treated to in his life, with her blond hair clinging to her neck and shoulders and the towel wrapped around her whispering promises of areas he'd only recently begun to map in earnest.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Feel better?"

She nodded in satisfaction. "Much." Then, without another word, she flopped onto the bed next to him, working her way up until their hips and shoulders were flush and pressed against one another.

Ed grimaced. "You're still wet," he complained, reaching out and picking at the strands of hair that were starting to stick to him.

"Then dry me," she ordered gently, her breath warm and damp in his ear.

"Dummy," Ed scolded, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "I could do that but I'd have to turn the water into steam. I'd end up scalding half your skin."

Winry blanched and pulled away. "On second thought, I'll just do it myself." She sat up, then looked at him over her shoulder, still wearing only the towel. He saw her shoulders rise, as if she were taking in a breath to say something. There was another hidden invitation somewhere in there, another chance for him to put his foot in his mouth, but before either one of them could say a word they both heard it: a terrible crash, the sound of men yelling, and the shriek of metal as automail shifted and morphed into their hidden functions.

Winry rolled her eyes and tossed an annoyed glance at the window. "Clients are getting rowdy again," she explained in a put out tone. "I hope they don't vandalize anyone's storefront this time or more people are going to be losing ammunition privileges. Their mechanics lose money when idiots end up blacklisted."

Ed pushed himself up onto his elbows as if to crane his head out of the window. He'd been assuming that any disturbances were occurring closer to the other side of town, where the bars and restaurants were clustered; he'd stayed at this inn several times with no problems.

Things outside were already quieting. Still, Winry's eyes were watching the window raptly, and Ed, feeling forgotten, reached up and tugged at the end of her hair. "Hey you."

She tore her eyes away and looked at him again, grinning as they made eye contact, and _oh_, Ed would endure a million Promised Days if it meant that he got to come home to her smile every time. She dipped her head down, brushed her lips over his, and as easy as that they were tangled together again.

Thoughts of trouble outside were banished, along with Winry's towel.

* * *

"Well look-it here! It's Ed! How's Miss Winry today, Ed?" Hands grabbed at his arm, fingers clenching hard enough that Ed slowed to prevent his sleeve from being torn off.

"Good afternoon Mr. Redding," Ed responded dryly, trying to politely take his automail arm back. "Winry's fine. Busy, mostly. She's got a full schedule of appointments today."

He was a little impressed. He'd made it a full three shops down from Garfield's before one of the neighbors had accosted him. In general, Ed made the effort to minimize his appearance in Rush Valley, but by now the majority of Winry's customers and the mechanics in the surrounding shops recognized him on sight. Most of them were polite, for Winry's sake, though Ed could tell there was no love lost between him and her customers, who generally treated him with suspicion. He tried not to take it too personally though, because he was pretty sure they'd be wary of _any_ boy that hung around Winry. The ones who knew him personally weren't that big of a problem.

There were a select few Rush Valley natives, however, that were extremely friendly - to the point that Ed was suspicious of _them_.

"Come on now, Mr. Redding," Paninya snapped, trying to step between the mechanic and the grip he had on Ed's right arm. "He doesn't belong to you and you know it. Quit trying to steal Winry's work."

"I'm not stealing anything!" Mr. Redding protested. Immediately, however, he dropped Ed's arm as if it had burned him - which it might have, in the midday heat, though Ed knew the truth. "I just think her work is interesting, and I think this young man does her a disservice, hiding it when he comes around." He turned beady eyes on Ed. "Are you ashamed of your 'mail or something, boy?"

Ed raised his eyebrows. "Not at all. If Winry moved to Xing, I'd follow just for the maintenance."

The mechanic sniffed indignantly. "I wouldn't make you travel that far. And I'd offer you a good deal too, except I doubt you'd need it, makin' top buck for the military."

There was a moment where Ed's mouth simply dropped open, a shocked moment where his brain tried to process exactly what was being insinuated - _Did he just say, I think he did_ - but before he could Paninya rocked her weight between the two of them and reached behind her, as if to grab Ed's arm herself.

"Don't _bait_ him, Mr. Redding," Paninya interjected sharply. "And don't go bothering Winry's customers. I'm sure she'd have a thing or two to say to you if she knew about that."

"Hey, hey, hey!" He took a step back from the two of them, his hands raised in a placating manner. "I meant no harm! Don't you two go putting words in my mouth that were never in my brain." He looked up and down the street, then snorted and shuffled his feet in the dirt. "I got too much work to do to stand out here and get insulted on my own property."

"Of course," Paninya replied sweetly. "We'll be on our way then."

They were barely out of earshot before Paninya shuddered. "That guy always gives me the creeps. Mechanics in Rush Valley are crazy, but poachers are the worst sort."

Ed cast a worried glance behind him. "Is he really after Winry's customers?"

Paninya let out a short, sharp laugh. "He's after _anyone's_ customers. Although," she gave Ed a critical look out of the corner of her eye. "I think you're high on his wish list because you're kind of famous."

"Seriously?" Ed's face twisted in confusion. "Right around now that's more liable to get him into trouble than anything else."

"You don't have to tell me that," Paninya retorted. "Why do you think Winry sent me with you? Someone needs to keep you safe."

"Shut up," Ed ordered, refusing to look at her even though he knew she was smirking at him.

"You're going to ruin my reputation," she insisted. "When I worked so hard to become an upstanding citizen too."

"_You're_ half the reason I'm stuck with the reputation I have here," Ed shot back. "You're the one who stole my watch."

"This watch?" Paninya asked cheekily, holding up that familiar silver watch with the military insignia. It flashed in the sun, a pinpoint bright light in Ed's eyes.

"Will you quit _doing_ that!" Ed snarled, grabbing the watch off of her and stuffing it back into his pocket. "And don't go waving it around in the middle of the day or we'll both be in trouble."

"Don't worry on my account," Paninya replied, pulling up at the corner of the street and looking to see if it was safe to cross through the crowd and carts. "I can talk my way out of trouble." Ed just glowered at her, and she finally shrugged and pointed down the street. "There's the shop. Do you know what Winry wanted you to pick up?"

"Yeah, hold on," Ed reached into his pocket for the piece of paper Winry had pressed into his hand when they'd left. Both she and Garfield had a full schedule during the day, so Ed had offered to run errands, both to help out the shop and to keep himself from trying to distract Winry. It was just another one of the reasons he preferred Winry coming to Central than visiting Rush Valley himself.

Coaxing Winry away from her work could be a fun – but rarely profitable – endeavor. "She said she needed – hey! My list is gone!" He turned on his heels, his eyes scanning the ground for the lost piece of paper, already wondering how Winry would react if he showed up and asked her to rewrite everything.

"You mean this list?" Paninya asked teasingly from behind him. Ed wheeled around again and lunged, but before he even got close Paninya flashed a bright grin at him and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Paninya was already at the shop by the time Ed caught up with her - she could slip through a crowd, unnoticed, but Ed had to take his time and couldn't just push people out of his way. The shopping district of Rush Valley was, of course, the busiest part of the city as well, and so Paninya was almost to the counter by the time Ed had politely elbowed his way through the mass of shouting people and slipped away from the manic engineers who'd been trying to examine his limbs.

Choosing a supply shop in Rush Valley was much like picking a mechanic - mechanics were generally loyal to a single shop, and while it was easy to be lured away by better deals, most were suspicious of being lowballed and tended to stick with who they knew. Mr. Garfield had established ties with a Mr. Bosch, and Winry therefore bought from him exclusively. The supply shops had a pulse on the entire city, and everyone knew that the best business gossip was found in the shopping district. It was where the majority of the tourists gravitated, bringing in news from other markets, and half as many mechanics were there to socialize as to buy, much to Ed's dismay as he found his personal space invaded, a body pressing at his back and at both shoulders.

He scowled at Paninya, who appeared entirely at home with both the atmosphere and Ed's sour mood. She had Winry's list out and was holding it close to her face. "Hey," Paninya poked him in the shoulder. "Did she actually explain any of this to you?"

"Eh?" Paninya shoved the scrap of paper in her face. Ed blinked as Winry's handwriting invaded his sight.

"You heard me, did she explain any of this?" Paninya demanded. "First of all, I can't even tell if this is a five or a six, and then she doesn't even say if it's the gauge of wire she wants or how many bundles she needs. Does she expect you to read her mind or something?"

Ed frowned. "I just bought her wires, why is she ordering more?"

"Geez, Ed, you don't know how many wires go into a single arm, do you?" Ed blinked at her, and Paninya raised an eyebrow. "How long have you had your 'mail again, Ed?"

He opened his mouth to make a retort, but was instantly distracted by the conversation going on directly to his left. Unconsciously, he tugged his sleeve down a little more and pulled his hat farther over his eyes.

"If you ask me the Guild is no more than a branch of the government at this point." Ed lowered his head, and glanced out of the corner of his eye. There were two older gentlemen, entirely nondescript in their demeanor and dress, waiting patiently for their turn to place orders. They were both wearing jackets - Ed couldn't help wondering how they didn't collapse of heat stoke; he could feel sweat trickling down his neck - and so he couldn't tell if they were mechanics or automail clients. Ed had assumed, from their complaints about the Guild, that they were clients, until:

"They're so out of touch they don't realize that the profits from installation only go so far. I _need_ the ammunition sales to pay my bills." He paused to cough, and then added, "It's gettin' hard to make a living out here."

"Used to be the Guild was on our side," his partner replied. "Now we're paying them dues so that they can tell us not to sell to people."

Ed snuck another glance. They were definitely not mechanics he was familiar with, no one from Winry's block, but that didn't mean their opinions were unfamiliar to him. This wasn't the first time he'd heard Rush Valley citizens expressing such opinions. Ed and Winry had never talked about it, but he also knew that she generally didn't discuss politics - and he knew that she'd heard about it before, from clients who were less than complimentary about Ed and her relationship with him. He sighed. Paninya managed to slip through a couple people, inching her way closer to the counter, but Ed hung back.

"Dunno why they're so gung-ho to kiss the new government's ass anyway." People were closing around all of them, driving a human wedge between him and the mechanics. "It's the same jackasses who made up the old military, and they never gave a whit about us."

"You're telling me? I lost my foot fighting their wars and you think I heard one word from them since they stuck me on a train home?"

"Ha, they've already crippled us once. Now they're just going to do it again with their pointless laws and bans and blacklisting."

A third voice joined in at this. "You mean the Guild or the government?"

"Same difference!" Shouts of laughter rose up.

Ed's mouth twisted. He was always aware of the preferential treatment state alchemist's received, and he'd heard rumblings about what ordinary soldiers had endured during the wars, and the shoddy care that Bradley had half-heartedly provided afterward. As if he wasn't annoyed enough, he thought of Mustang. Mustang was all about the voice of the people - Ed wondered how much he'd heard about this.

Ahead of him, Paninya's voice rose above the din, capturing the shopkeeper's attention. Ed looked up, and then saw the wallet Paninya was using to pay for the purchases - _didn't Garfield have a credit line here?_ - and suddenly, patting down his pockets, he realized.

"Son of a!"

* * *

The trip back to the train station was much more enjoyable than his arrival. It was late in the day, and the sun would soon be setting. It was already threatening to dip below the cliffs that surrounded Rush Valley, casting long shadows over the town. One hand held his suitcase, while his other hand was entwined with Winry's as she made the long walk with him back to the train station. It still surprised him, despite how long they'd been making these trips to see one another, how fast weekends traveled. It seemed like they never got the chance to spend time together the way they wanted.

Winry was off on Sundays, barring emergencies, and so they'd taken the opportunity to sleep in late, lying in bed until neither one could stand being tangled up in the warm sheets anymore with the sun beating through even the blinds. They'd spent the day together, conceding brunch with Garfield and Paninya but then taking dinner for themselves. Both had known that after dinner Ed would have to get back to the train station, though neither one liked to talk about it. Instead they talked about the next weekend, preferring to look forward to what would be coming, instead of lamenting what they couldn't have.

"There's a place I thought we'd try," Ed informed her. "I can make reservations for Saturday night."

Winry gave him a sly grin. "How did you hear about this place?"

"Oh," Ed said vaguely. "Around."

Her grin was still too big. They both knew the truth.

"Mustang," Ed finally mumbled, refusing to look at her while she chuckled. The brigadier general was always generous in his advice for Ed and Winry's relationship, and Ed never admitted exactly how often he had quietly taken the man's suggestions.

Winry declined to comment. "I think that sounds wonderful," she said softly. The station platform was almost empty - most people caught the morning trains - but there were still a few people milling around, impatiently waiting for the incoming train. Though it was still dusk, the lights responsible for guiding the train into the station were starting to flicker on, casting a hazy glow over the platform. The evening smelled damp, and Ed thought it might rain soon. Despite the fact that it was warm, Winry was standing so close to him that she could rest her head on his shoulder, if she wanted.

"Tell Al I said hi," she murmured, gazing up at him.

"You'll see him next weekend in Central," Ed responded. Once she frowned, however, he smiled and gave a put-upon sigh. "If you insist. You know I risk my skull every time I interrupt him when he's studying though."

"His books can't be any heavier than a wrench," Winry retorted. He was about to respond that they were pretty damn close - Al was taking some high level classes, and Ed had become something of an expert in getting beaned by both books and wrenches - when they heard the whistle, and braced themselves for the incoming rush of wind as the train pulled in.

He looked back down at Winry, mirroring her expression as her lips twisted into a grimace. "Have a safe trip home please."

"Of course," he responded, reaching out and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. Uneasily, he cast a glance around the platform. Those who'd been waiting for the train had rushed forward, and a lot of the time he got anxious, doing anything with Winry in front of other people.

Winry read him perfectly. She slid her hands up his chest, cupped his cheeks, and pulled him down into a soft, gentle kiss. Suddenly there was no one on the platform but the two of them. Ed was always amazed at how easily he got lost in her.

When the kiss threatened to turn more serious, Winry finally pulled away and panted a laugh against him. "Don't miss your train now."

"I swear," Ed vowed, his arms still locked around her waist, "I'm going to have a talk with Mustang about these meetings early on Monday. If he could just wait until after lunch I could stay a whole 'nother night."

Winry smirked at him. "I'm going to be talking to Riza soon. Maybe I can make a subtle suggestion to her."

"That would be nice," Ed told her, bending over to pick up his suitcase, his brain still vaguely dazed from the kiss.

He wasn't sure what made him ask the question, or why the question had even occurred to him. He knew Winry talked to Al and Mrs. Hughes pretty regularly, and knew that Winry and Riza got along very well, but for some reason he was surprised to hear about Winry talking to Hawkeye personally; in his head, the two had always been connected only through _him_. "Do you talk to Hawkeye often?"

Winry raised her eyebrows. "Um, I guess?" She twirled the end of her ponytail through her fingers. "She helps me with my custom designs. I didn't realize how unbalanced they were until I consulted her."

As quickly as that, the sick feeling had returned to Ed. He felt almost as if he'd been blindsided, but couldn't for the life of him tell by what. His mouth was open but no words were coming out.

Winry gave him a nervous smile, then rocked forward and gave him one last peck on the cheek. "I'll see you next weekend. Have a good ride."

"I will," Ed said faintly. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'll probably be up late tonight," she responded casually, her eyes flitting down to the ground before looking back up at him. "Working."

"Okay," Ed revised, unsure if she would actually be working or if she was just interested in hearing that he had gotten home safe. "I'll call you tonight then."

He climbed onto the train and found a window seat where he could wave goodbye to her. As always, she stayed on the platform until he was out of eyesight, and once the train was well on its way Ed sat back and tried to nap before they arrived in Central. The sick feeling stayed with him almost the entire ride, and he was sure it wasn't because of motion sickness.

* * *

"Good grief Fullmetal, are you actually sleeping?" Something hit Ed in the face, and he jerked in his chair as his eyes flew open. Roy was frowning at him from the other side of his desk.

Ed glared at the man as he rubbed his forehead. "What was that for?" he snapped, reaching down to pick up the paper ball that Roy had tossed at him. They'd been working from those notes when he'd dozed off. "You were taking a phone call!"

"You fell asleep while meeting with your superior officer!" Roy retorted, crossing his arms and leaning forward. "Next time I'm throwing the inkwell!"

Ed craned his head back, glancing at the corner of the room where Riza sat, patiently cleaning one of her guns while the men met. She appeared entirely engrossed in her task. "Hawkeye, did you see him? Doesn't that count as harassment or something?"

"I saw," Riza remarked, her eyes not even flicking towards Ed. "Sir, your form was all off. Do try to aim better or I'm going to schedule you some time at the shooting range."

Roy's answering groan made it perfectly clear who would get the blame if such an event were to come to pass. Ed scowled and slouched down in his chair, half-heartedly shuffling through the notes that were lying in his lap. Roy raised his eyebrows, his expression turning concerned. "You seem awfully tired this morning Fullmetal."

Ed shrugged. "Not anymore than usual."

A smirk started to worm its way across Roy's face. "Did you have a late night?"

Ed's tone was sharp as he repeated his answer. "Not anymore than usual."

"Hawkeye," Roy asked in a slow, sure tone. "What was the date this weekend?"

"The sixteenth, sir." Riza appeared uninterested, as if she didn't know exactly what Roy was up to.

"What," Ed demanded, "you can't even keep track of the date without Hawkeye helping? Do you need help tying up your boots in the morning?"

"They buckle," Riza called from the corner.

"You're just trying to change the subject," Roy answered smoothly, though there was no denying the color that had risen in his cheeks. "This was a Rush Valley weekend, wasn't it?" He sighed mournfully and leaned back in his chair, casting Ed an appraising look. "You're always useless to me after Rush Valley weekends. The late train wears you out."

"I don't want to talk about Rush Valley," Ed asserted, shuffling back through his notes again. "I want to talk about alchemists. I started tracking down Schuster. His last known address was in the west –" Ed abruptly cut himself off, the mention of Rush Valley suddenly reminding him of the words he'd overheard during the weekend. "Hey," he asked, "Do you have any contacts in Rush Valley?"

Roy raised his eyebrows and scratched his head. "In Rush Valley?" At Ed's nod he shifted his gaze back to Riza. "Hey Hawkeye," he called. "Does Miss Rockbell count as one of my contacts?"

"That's not what I meant!" Ed started to protest, but Riza cut him off.

"No sir, she's considered _my_ contact." Riza was finishing up her cleaning and was starting to reassemble her gun.

Ed twisted all the way around in his chair to look at her. Winry had said something similar as he was getting on the train last night. He looked at Hawkeye for a minute, and then blurted out the same question that he'd asked Winry. "Do you talk to her often?"

Roy snickered, and muttered something to himself, but Ed ignored him as Riza finally pulled her attention away from her weapon to look at him.

"Fairly often," she answered, considering her words. "Every once in a while when she gets a commission and she'll call me for advice on barrel design or ammunition storage." She made direct eye contact with Ed, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. Riza looked like she knew exactly what Ed was thinking. "I'm sure you know that her designs are increasing in demand."

"Of course," Ed responded faintly, watching as Hawkeye stood up and holstered her gun. For a moment Riza's face blurred, and he saw Winry performing the same action. When he blinked everything was right again, but that didn't stop the pit of nausea that was starting to bubble in his stomach.

"Sorry Fullmetal," Roy interrupted. "Next time I'll get Hawkeye to record the minutes from her conversation. Can we try to get something done before your naptime?"

* * *

Al had water boiling on the stove when Ed got home from work, but it seemed he'd forgotten entirely what he'd set out to make, seeing as he hardly looked up from his books, spread across the tiny coffee table in their sitting room, when Ed stormed into the room and demanded an explanation.

"I don't know," Al muttered, mostly to himself. "Tea?"

"Well why didn't you use the kettle?" Ed demanded, the water sizzling around the metal pot as he shook it in aggravation.

Al reached to highlight a paragraph in his book. "I was wondering why it hadn't whistled yet."

With a sigh, Ed turned back into their tiny kitchen and put the kettle on proper. Once upon a time, he knew, their roles had been reversed. Ed would never admit it, but he was well aware of the fact that Al had cleaned up some messes behind him. Now he was starting to wonder if college had ruined Al's brain – his brother was starting to lack common sense in ways that Ed was starting to fear were genetic.

He peered back into the sitting room when he realized he'd heard Al's voice calling out a question.

"What?" Ed asked, leaning against the frame of the threshold.

"I asked how work was," Al answered. Then, with a worried look on his face, he lifted his head, asking, "It is Monday right? I went to class this morning."

"Yeah it's Monday," Ed grumbled back. "You're working too hard Al. Maybe you should come out to Rush Valley with me next time. You know, take a little break."

"Sounds like fun." Al's eyes were straying back to his books. "Watching Winry distract you so you don't notice Paninya picking your pockets."

"She only did that once last time!" Ed protested, and Al lifted his eyes to give Ed a serious look.

"Ed, she cleared them out completely," he pointed out. "If there'd been a hole in the seam she'd have taken your boxers too."

Ed flushed instantly, and was saved by the high-pitched shriek of the kettle boiling. Grumbling quietly to himself, he went back into the kitchen and poured tea for both of them.

Alphonse hardly looked up when Ed placed the cup in front of him. "Seriously, Al." Ed wrinkled his nose. "You're working too much. Why don't you come with me next time?"

Al lifted his head and gazed at Ed, then cast a glance around at his books as though they would try to escape. "But I still have so much to do if I want to graduate early! And besides, I see Winry when she comes to Central."

Ed sighed and slumped down into his seat. "Yeah, maybe that's not such a great idea anyway. The city's been weird the last few times I've been there."

Al's gaze sharpened. "Weird like how?" Ed wasn't surprised by Al's sudden interest. They'd spent too many years paying too close attention to how towns were operating while traveling, had experienced their fair share of hostile – or, conversely, overenthusiastic – greetings just because of that piece of silver Ed carried around. _Weird_, in Ed's book, could cover any myriad of emotions or actions. They'd been brothers too long; Al knew him too well.

"Same stuff I've mentioned before," Ed said, watching the steam from his drink rise towards the ceiling. "They don't like the Parliament. They think the government is targeting them. They think that the Guild is only paying them lip service and taking their money. It's getting louder though."

Al frowned, his tone concerned. "Does Roy know about this?"

"Ye – oh wait." Ed remembered how the conversation had gone earlier in the morning. "I started to tell him."

Al's face remained steady, an impassive stare asking, "_Really, Ed?_"

"Okay," Ed admitted. "I got distracted before I really said anything. I'm going to tell him soon though. He's going to have to come up with something." After a moment to consider this, he then added, "Or order me to."

"Sounds like it's getting serious," Al responded, tucking his pen into the crook of the book and shutting it. With some small measure of surprise, Ed realized that this was the most attention Al had paid him in the last few months, since the school year had started. "What are they going to do?"

"I don't know," Ed shrugged. "But you know what it's like down there. It's not like Central, where a petty robber pulls a whittling knife out of his automail and people think it's a bomb. A lot of the guys down there have some sort kind of special custom automail, and the more pissed they get the more likely they are to act like idiots with it."

He sipped his tea, wincing as he drank too fast and burned his tongue. "It won't matter in a few months when Winry's done though. Once she gets out of there they can do whatever they want."

Al considered this statement. "Do you think she's going to want to move out of the city?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Ed answered without thought. In all honesty, they hadn't talked about it yet, but it seemed like such a simple, foregone conclusion. "Granny's not there, me and you aren't there, why would she want to stay?"

Shrugging, Al muttered, "I don't know, friends, clients, her business…"

"There's no reason for her to stay there!" Ed snapped, irritated now. If he weren't so sure Al was just trying to needle him, he'd wonder why Al was being so contrary.

Silence fell between the two brothers. Al raised his eyebrows, making his patented "Ed-is-overreacting" face, and flipped his book open again.

Ed realized he was drumming the fingers of his automail hand in annoyance against the arm of the chair. He brought his hand up closer to his face. "Hey Al," he called, ignoring the weary look on Al's face. "Have you ever really looked at Winry's work before?"

"I've seen your arm and leg more times than I can count," Al murmured into his book. "Why?"

"That's not what I meant," Ed responded, flexing his fingers and dropping his arm again. "I meant like, her custom stuff. Last I heard she was getting more commissions."

Al just looked at him blankly.

"You know," Ed explained impatiently. "Firearms and stuff."

"Oh," Al dropped his eyes back down to his notes. "Well that's nice for her. She can put that extra money away at least, if the Guild isn't taking it as part of her apprenticeship dues."

Ed frowned. "Yeah but – " All he could do was mouth for words though – he couldn't really figure out what was bothering him so badly. There was something disturbing to him in the thought of Winry crafting weapons and installing them for clients. Her hands could do so much better…

He realized Al had torn his attention away from his studies again. That was twice in one day.

"But what?" Al prompted, and Ed was even more surprised when there was no annoyance in his tone, only concern. "She's good at them, isn't she?"

That wasn't part of the problem. Ed had never actually seen one of Winry's crafted firearms, only blueprints lying around, but if there was anything he knew about her, she didn't do anything halfway. Her work would be top quality only. "I don't see why anyone would want one of those," he finally blurted out.

Al blinked, but to his credit didn't look surprised. Ed didn't talk about it often, but after the incident with Scar and Winry and the gun all those years ago, his disdain for firearms wasn't a secret. "I do," he offered. "Think about it, Ed. After your surgery, you didn't feel like you were yourself until you tried alchemy again."

"That's different!" Ed blurted out. There _couldn't_ be any similarities between him and those idiots down south, not even a little bit. Forget that Al was right and after his surgery he didn't feel like a whole person until he'd clapped his hands and felt that familiar energy pumping through him and _oh yes, I'm Ed and I'm an alchemist_ -

"Never mind," Ed waved his brother off, and the two of them fell back into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

"Really, it's raining there?" Winry asked, slightly amused. Their connection wasn't great – for some reason, the line going out of his apartment just wasn't the best, and Winry always had a lot of background noise on her end, whether it was customers shouting or Garfield grinding down an arm plate – but it was more than enough to satisfy Ed. "It's… hot here."

"Yeah well," Ed said sarcastically, "it's spring and that generally means rainy season for about everywhere in the country except Rush Valley."

"Hey it rained on Monday!" Winry protested gently.

"And that makes up the entirety of your rainy season," Ed returned.

"Excuse me." He could practically hear Winry's smile through the static, and yeah, he was definitely smiling too. This was when it was best, when they could go back and forth this way. "I think you're forgetting about our famous labor-inducing thunder storms."

"You're right," Ed nodded, keeping his sarcastic tone. "So you'll either die of thirst or a flash flood. That makes me feel _so_ much better."

"I think you're exaggerating a bit there Ed," Winry responded wryly, but she was laughing as she said it, and Ed knew he had her. "The city is not nearly as bad as you'd like to believe."

"Oh yeah?" He stretched out on the couch, the phone line pulling slightly behind him. If it slipped it wouldn't be the first time he'd accidently hung up on her. "Any more visits from your little blacklisted friend?"

"No, I think he's off bothering some other block." She was still laughing, shrugging off the little bit of concern he'd just shown. "I doubt he'll be back anytime soon either. The clients get really annoyed when the mechanics are harassed. I know Mr. Whitney has had a thing or two to say about him."

"Mr. Whitney, he's –" Ed's mind was scrambling for a face to match up to the name Winry had just given him.

"He's a little older than Master Garfield, I think," Winry responded. "Lost one of his arms to infection, so I had to do a full chest plate to support the weight of the arm because he didn't want an alloy-"

"He doesn't like me," Ed interjected. It was better to cut off Winry before she really got going on the shop talk.

Winry paused, as if trying to gather herself. He'd obviously derailed her train of thought. "He doesn't like anyone. He's one of those crabby middle-aged men who becomes a crabby old man."

"I'm just saying –" Ed started to point out, but Winry cut him off.

"The point is, everything is nice and quiet here, except for Mr. Whitney complaining." Her tone was gentle and coaxing. "And I don't mind him complaining so much, because it just makes me miss you more."

He caught the compliment before the insult. "That's – hey!"

She was definitely still laughing, so hard that the line was practically all static. Ed rolled his eyes. "Well, you'll see me the day after tomorrow. Get to Central, and I'll complain all weekend just for you."

"Home sweet home," Winry mused. "Hopefully we'll find time for something other than complaining though…"

"I can think of a few things." He really could too. Best to focus on the safe ones for now. "I made a reservation for us for Saturday night, and Gracia invited us for breakfast on Sunday. If you don't want to go I could make up an excuse…"

"You'd never get away with it. You're a terrible liar," Winry declared. "And besides, I want to see Elysia. Her birthday is coming up too."

"Ok, ok," Ed conceded. "Well, it'll be nice to have you in Central either way this weekend." That was an understatement; he had been missing her more and more lately. Still, it would be weird to just admit that right out loud. "It's uh… better when you're here."

Al appeared in the threshold then with a smug, disbelieving look on his face. He caught Ed's eyes, stuck out his tongue and sharply pointed a finger towards his mouth in a disgusted gesture. Ed made a face at him and turned his attention back to Winry.

"I hope it's not raining anymore when you get here," he said, interrupting Winry in the middle of a sentence. "Al smells like a wet dog when he gets caught in the rain."

* * *

Friday morning dawned one of those perfect spring mornings, the type where the rain had just ended and been burned away by the sun, leaving the world smelling fresh and clean. Smiling, Ed cracked the window in his room as he got dressed for work. It was still cool, with a chilly breeze fluttering through the curtains, but it would warm up through the day, and would help air out the staleness of winter that inevitably gathered in the apartment during the cold season.

Al's bedroom door was open as Ed padded barefoot down the hallway. His brother was snoring, and Ed noted with no small amount of amusement that he'd fallen asleep with his notebook and pen. There was ink smudged on the collar of his pajamas. At least he had bothered to sleep the night before; that was something of a relief to Ed.

Ed sighed and continued towards the kitchen. Winry would be arriving tonight; maybe he could get her to talk to Al about how much he'd been working. She was generally the authority on Things That Are Good for the Elric brothers. And, Ed had realized some time ago, she had no problem cowing people just like Granny could – she could be just as stubborn as Al, no matter how hard his brother dug his heels in.

_And if that doesn't work_, Ed thought, slightly giddy at the picture, _she'll storm down to the college and give a good talking to to Al's professors_…

He cast an appraising eye around the tiny kitchen. There were some washed dishes in the sink, to be put away, but other than that the room was tidy. His room was mostly clean, aside from some basic clutter – there was no embarrassing laundry hanging around or anything of that nature. He was pretty sure it was safe to bring Winry home... assuming Al didn't lose his head completely and forget to put pants on or something.

He dug the kettle out of the sink and put water on to boil. For a moment he briefly entertained the idea of actually cooking breakfast, of frying up some eggs or something equally delicious that might actually drag Al out of bed, and then decided that it wasn't worth the effort. It would just be more dishes he'd have to wash up…

Wrapped up entirely in these dazed, early morning thoughts, it took Ed a full minute to realize that the phone was ringing, and another thirty seconds after that for him to remember that Al was still in bed and that he'd have to answer it.

He scrambled into the living room and just barely managed to snap up the phone before the call disconnected – only to promptly fumble and drop the receiver, watching helplessly as it skittered under the table. Dropping to his knees, he cursed under his breath and wondered if whoever was on the other end would still be waiting when he finally got on.

"- and I'm really, really sorry, and I promise I'll call you as soon as I'm able, and I hope you're not mad – " Ed blinked as he realized he recognized the voice babbling from the line.

"Winry?" he asked, entirely confused. It was so strange to hear her on the phone, when he'd just been thinking about her.

"Ed, are you listening to me?" Winry demanded, and Ed startled awake a little bit. There was a ragged edge to her voice, which was registering in tones higher than normal. "This is serious!"

"What?" he demanded, his grip increasing on the phone. "What's wrong?"

"I was trying to tell you that I can't make the trip this weekend, there's too much going on here." She sounded upset - frantic bordering on angry. Ed's heart clenched a little bit - _she hasn't been crying, has she_?

"What's happened?" Ed asked, his mind running a mile a minute with the various possibilities. She had to be okay if she was able to make a call to him but – "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Winry told him, and maybe she heard the edge of panic in Ed's voice because he noticed that suddenly her tone seemed much calmer, more in control. "I'm fine," she repeated. "It's fine. I just…" she trailed off groping for words. "There's a lot happening here. I'll come next weekend, I promise."

"You're definitely okay?" Ed repeated, not at all believing her assertion that she was fine. "What's going on out there?"

Winry paused for a lengthy moment, composing a reply before speaking. She took so long that if he hadn't heard her breathing, Ed would have wondered if they'd been disconnected. Finally she said in a halting tone, "I'm okay, and everything here is okay. Some stuff just got dropped in our laps really quickly, and we need to take care of it, all right? Automail stuff."

Ed mouthed for words – his first instinct had been to blurt out "_you're lying!_" but maybe there was some sort of god, as it seemed nothing short of divine intervention could keep him from saying something so completely stupid. "Are… are you sure?" he asked, when his brain finally gave him the words. "Do you need help? Do you want me to come out?"

"No!" Her response was a little too quick, and gaining that panicked tone again. "Don't come out!"

Shocked, Ed said nothing, and Winry swiftly amended her words, "It's all automail stuff Ed, and I'll be really busy and you'll be _bored_. I just didn't want you to expect me on the train tonight."

"I can – it's not – " He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been about to say, probably something about how it wasn't a problem for him to come out. If there was something wrong, if she needed him, then he needed to be there. It was as simple as that. Ed never got the chance to get anything approximating that out, however, as Winry cut him off:

"I have to go, Ed. I have a lot of work to do." She sounded genuinely miserable. "I'll call you soon, I promise."

"…Okay." He responded after a long pause. For a moment they were both silent – he was sure there was something more that needed to be said, and it hung heavily between them; something important and good but also huge and… almost threatening. He couldn't say it. He wished fiercely he could be there, to show it. "I –"

But the sound of a dial tone interrupted; Winry was already gone.

* * *

At first, he at least attempted to listen to Winry. After she had hung up, he'd stared, dumbfounded, at the phone for a few minutes and then gotten dressed and gone to work. Her directions had been clear, and concise: don't come out.

The walk to work should have been nice, in the pleasant weather, but Ed's stomach had soured and he spent most of it frowning, muttering to himself, and wondering what exactly had gotten Winry so upset. Emergencies at the shop were unusual – Garfield and Winry had a tier system for how far along patients were in their recovery, and those who were just out of surgery had more interaction with a physician than with the mechanics. Winry and Garfield would be visiting a high risk patient in a hospital or surgical clinic, where there would be urgent care nearby. The biggest emergency that occurred on the average patient would be nerve grafts slipping, which weren't lethal but intensely painful.

He couldn't even remember his arrival to work, so wrapped up was Ed in his thoughts. It was still strange for him to think about how he had an office now – mostly because he'd complained to Roy about how he was drowning in paper at home between him at work and Al in school, and _really_, wasn't he working with some sensitive information? – and how there was stuff waiting for him right there on the desk.

Alchemists. He'd been tracking alchemists. Halfheartedly, he picked up a sheet of paper and stared at it, attempting to make sense of the words on it. It was almost shocking to him, how many alchemists were still attempting to cash in on the government budget while trying to worm their way out of a yearly evaluation.

_If it was an emergency with a patient though_, his brain suddenly realized, _she wouldn't have called in a panic. She's been doing this since she was a kid, dummy!_

His foot started tapping the ground in irritation, his hand running roughly through his bangs as he tried to force himself to focus. _"It's all automail stuff, Ed,"_ she'd promised. _"I'll be busy,"_

It looked like one of the idiots he was trying to track down had been last seen in the Dublith area. Maybe he could –

"_You'll be bored,_" she'd insisted. But she had seemed so upset, and not just because their weekend had been cancelled.

But she had also promised that everything was fine, and didn't he trust Winry to be honest? Wouldn't she _want_ him if she was in distress? Wasn't that part of this whole relationship thing?

With a groan he dropped his head to the desk. Blindly, he reached out, picked up the phone, and lifted his eyes just enough to catch sight of the rotor, his fingers moving automatically to dial the number to Garfield's shop.

He wasn't surprised when it rang and rang and rang and then disconnected, but he still let out another groan of disappointment. If he packed up and went, Winry would be mad at him. And, exactly as she had said, he'd probably spend the weekend bored with nothing to do while she caught up on work.

Or… something was wrong. His gut instinct was shouting that there was more to it, that something had happened and that she _needed_ him.

And even if she didn't technically need him, he still needed to be there. _Isn't that how these things work?_

Ed glanced down at the shuffle of papers spread out over his desk. He would feel better – would actually get something accomplished – if he could be assured that Winry was okay.

Reaching out, he picked up the phone again, and this time he called the train station.

* * *

When Ed got off the train and walked out of Rush Valley's station, he was unsurprised to find that the weather was exactly the same as the last time he'd been in the city. That was the only thing that assured him he was in the correct destination; he could not believe that this was the same city that he'd visited only a week ago.

There was _nobody_. It looked almost like a ghost town – and for half a moment Ed was reminded of the time he and Al had visited the Yousewell Mines, because the streets were empty in a nerve-wracking way he'd simply never seen or imagined. Shops were open, technically, since there were no gates or bars in front of windows, but as Ed walked down the streets, he could see that nobody was doing any business today. Occasionally, as Ed passed, he could see some people through windows, huddled in small groups, but it certainly didn't look like there was any sort of automail maintenance or bargaining going on. As he walked through an intersection, he turned his head down the path opposite of his and saw that even the shopping district was deserted.

It had taken him all of a half hour to book a ticket, rush home and grab up some extra clothes, and dash down to the train station. Not wanting Al to worry, he'd made sure to scribble a note for him and left it between the pages of one of his schoolbooks where he knew his brother would find it. The ride into Rush Valley had been the longest of his entire life, and the fact that the trains had been nearly empty and he'd been the only one to get off at the Rush Valley stop simply aggravated his fear. What was going on in this town today?

Ed put on a brisk pace as he walked, and as he turned a corner caught the gleam of his automail shining in the sun out of the corner of his eye. Hastily, he tried to cover it, tried to shift his suitcase and briefly entertained the irrational thought of transmuting his own shirt, but it was nothing doing. He was bare, and if there was anything he knew for certain, it was that a young man walking through town with exposed automail was a mark with a target centered right on his back.

But nobody stopped him. Not once, the entire trip to Garfield's shop. He'd call the walk peaceful if it weren't for the_ tension_ that thrummed through the city, as thick as fog and almost as hard to see through. Nervously, he looked around, making sure he wasn't being followed or watched or studied, but nothing that Ed could see looked different, just _empty_ - which was just as unnerving as if he'd walked into town and found it on fire and torn apart. If there was anything that Rush Valley was known for besides automail, it was their population: loud and enthusiastic, they were welcoming of like-minded travelers and distrusting of anyone with four flesh limbs and a lack of mechanical knowledge.

When he turned the corner to Winry's street, he had exactly ten seconds where he felt some measure of relief. There, he'd finally found, were all the people previously missing from other parts of the city. He could see a large group of them crowded down near the end of the street, and _this_ was more like the Rush Valley that he was familiar with.

Then his stomach dropped as he realized that the group was crowded around exactly _one_ shop, and that it was Garfield's. He took two stumbling steps before breaking into a run, nearly dropping his small suitcase as he sprinted down the street, acting inconspicuous be damned.

He'd walked down that street what seemed like a million times, and yet he never remembered it taking that long before; Ed was entirely out of breath and panting as he approached the edge of the crowd, forcing himself to pull up and not just barrel through the group of people. Even despite the number of onlookers milling around - mostly people he recognized, Ed realized: the closest neighbors, mechanics, and some of Winry and Garfield's clients - it was so quiet he could hardly comprehend anyone's conversation even though he was in the thick of the crowd, although he really wasn't paying attention because he was too busy scanning the face of the group, just wanting to see if –

And then his eyes landed on Garfield, who was crying noisily into a little handkerchief, and next to him, with her arms wrapped around one of his, was Winry. Ed let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and began to navigate towards them. They both looked fine, if upset, though Winry's eyes were dry. Ed said a little mental prayer of gratitude, because if there was one thing on the planet that sickened him it was Winry crying.

He was so focused on the both of them that he almost missed the big picture; when he broke through he caught a flash of color out of the corner of his eye, which was noticeable only in the sense that when he was in Rush Valley he was used to everything being _brown_. Craning his head back, he actually looked at Garfield's shop for the first time and felt his jaw drop.

Someone had come after the shop with a will and some paint; there were anti-government slurs and crude slogans splashed across the front of the building. Scanning it in disbelief, Ed noted the glass littering the ground and realized that the windows had been broken out of the sides of the building as well. Quickly, he glanced up and down the street and confirmed what his heart was suspecting: Garfield's had been the only shop on the block hit.

He tripped in surprise, and barely caught himself, and when he looked up he realized that Winry had spotted him. The look on her face wasn't happy.

* * *

"Okay, start from the beginning again," Ed ordered, turning away from the pantry and towards Winry again.

Winry broke away from staring down into her teacup to look up at Ed and roll her eyes. "I told you already Ed." Her voice was tense. "Nobody weird came into the shop yesterday, it was all customers and clients that we're familiar with. It was a routine work schedule. Nobody strange to us was hanging around the block. In fact, nothing weird at all happened the entire day until five this morning when we heard the windows breaking."

"And then," Ed prompted. "You went outside and saw the damage?"

"Yes, that's when we saw the building." Winry agreed wearily. "No, there was nobody outside. It was just me and Garfield. Everyone else was still sleeping."

"So clearly," Ed mused aloud, sitting down across from her, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor, "they targeted your shop on purpose."

Even though he'd been in the city for a few hours now, he still felt tense and strung tight, as if adrenaline was still pumping through his system. The crowd had dispersed some time after Ed had simply clapped his hands and touched the walls of the shop. He'd been able to reduce the paint to dust and remove the marks, but the glass from the windows was too shattered to repair; he'd considered eyeballing a ratio between stone and sand before Winry had assured him that they could order fresh panes. Even though he knew he was doing everything he could, he still felt shaken by the events of the morning in a way he couldn't describe. Rush Valley had been making him nervous lately, this was true, but he'd never heard a cross word spoken about Winry, not even in jest. Nor Garfield, once he really thought about it, though people tended to get mysterious coughs when Garfield was brought up.

"Ed," Winry put down her cup and looked directly at him, a firm tone to her voice. "I told you this already. We weren't the only shop hit. We were just the only one you saw. Mr. Watson two blocks over got hit as well, and Mr. Peake's supply shop in the middle of town had his door ripped down on top of everything else. And those are just the ones I know about for sure."

"So it had to be a pretty coordinated effort right?" Ed asked, his mind scrambling to calculate how many people would have had to be involved in such a plot. Then a thought occurred to him: "Hold on a second, did you say Peake? I know that name. How do I know that name?"

Winry blinked at him. "He's one of the main suppliers who ships out of Rush Valley. I know he supplies the majority of the military bases in the southern half of Amestris."

"He has a direct tie to the military?" Ed demanded. "What about Watson?"

Winry's mouth twisted. "He's a veteran who went back to the front lines as a mechanic even after he was injured. Isn't that disgusting? As if the poor man hasn't lost enough already."

They were silent for a long minute while Ed processed this information. Finally, in an almost timid voice, he said what he was sure they were both thinking: "And everyone knows that you work for Garfield and that you're my mechanic."

Winry sighed. "I knew you were going to say that. Listen, Ed, I don't care about that."

"You _should_!" Ed snapped, before he could stop himself. It wasn't just about some minor damage to the shop, now it was about so much more - that because of _him_, Winry was in danger again, because of _his_ stupid job, people wanted to hurt her, and oh, they could have taken things so much farther than they did. _And what if_, his mind whispered tortuously, _this was just the warning, and they want to take it farther next time?_

"I_ don't_." Winry insisted. "And I don't think you should either."

Ed goggled. "You don't - I shouldn't - Do you realize what's going on? Or - or what could happen?"

"That doesn't _matter_." Winry said firmly, fixing him with a strong, unwavering glare. "Worrying about what could happen is useless, especially because it won't change anything. What's done is done and honestly, if it's my safety you're worried about I'm more protected than ever. The clients are all riled up, and they're gonna drag out whoever's responsible for this way before anyone from the military can investigate."

"What if it's the clients who've done this?" Ed asked, rather practically he thought, but Winry just rolled her eyes again and stood up from her chair.

"Ed, it's_ fine_," she tried to insist, coming up from behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. He craned his head back to look at her. "I was really only upset for Mr. Garfield. You know this shop is all he has."

She leaned over him and pulled him into a hug; Ed could feel her breath against his neck. Unconsciously, he raised a hand to grasp her wrist where it was wrapped around his shoulders. "And this isn't your fault. I don't want you to think that, that's why I didn't want you to come out."

His shoulders stiffened, but she cut him off before he could interject. "It's _not_ your fault Ed. Neither of us blames you. And no matter what, it's not going to change the city, or anyone's plans, or how things work here." Winry pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "So like I said, there's no use worrying, right?"

Ed didn't even hear her trail off. His mind had gotten caught on Winry's assertion that this wouldn't change anything. It was possible that she was right, that this simple act wouldn't have a single effect on the city, that the citizens could take care of themselves and things would run normally again.

Still, even despite Winry's reassurances and her unwavering confidence, in his mind the line had been drawn clearly. Rush Valley was not safe, not for Winry.

* * *

Later, in the afternoon, he left the shop long enough to walk over to the inn. There was no chance he was leaving the city tonight; he'd originally made the trip to be assured that Winry was okay, and while she claimed to be fine Ed suspected that maybe she wasn't being entirely truthful. He'd noticed through the day that she was talking in a much quieter tone than normal, had been glancing out the windows a little too often, as if she was afraid of drawing attention to herself. He didn't like the sight of Winry intimidated, and partway through the afternoon an idea occurred to him that was so brilliant, so obvious, it took everything inside of him not to just go ahead and blurt it out to Winry, wanting instead to surprise her once he could actually accomplish it.

Winry had offered to accompany him to the inn, but he'd politely refused. She was right, he'd found, about the clients being riled up; he was pretty sure any stranger that wandered into the shop was going to face a tribunal-styled interrogation, and it wasn't worth risking her leaving the relative safety of the shop.

Not to mention, he didn't necessarily want her overhearing this particular conversation.

The line rang and rang, and Ed's heart was pounding by the time someone finally picked up. Mentally, he swore if it was some secretary claiming that Roy Mustang was in a meeting and couldn't possibly be interrupted, he was going to reach through the phone line and strangle Roy - he knew, full well, that after lunch the only private meetings Roy ever held were with his staff, playing chess and making fun of each other.

Thankfully, it was the exact voice Ed wanted to hear: "Mustang."

Ed considered strangling him anyway. "Mustang, it's Ed."

"Fullmetal, where the hell have you been?" Ed blinked in surprise at the hostility in Roy's voice. That wasn't quite the greeting he'd been expecting. "You can't just ditch Central out of nowhere! You had meetings scheduled, and when you don't show up they call _me_ and complain!"

"There was an emergency!" Ed snapped. "I had to come out to Rush Valley!"

Roy paused, and Ed could tell he'd thrown the brigadier general for a loop. "...Is Miss Rockbell okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine." Ed waved his hand, then glanced around his rented room, as if there was someone lurking to eavesdrop. "Listen, do you pay any attention to this city at all? Do you have any idea what's going on down here?"

"Fullmetal," Roy informed him in an aggravated tone, "you spend more time down there than me. Is there something I should know about?"

"The war," Ed breathed into the phone, still casting nervous eyes around his room. "At first it was just talk. Everyone was talking about the new government and whose side they were on and who they were out to get and..." belatedly, he realized that he was rambling, and scrambled to marshal his thoughts. "At first it was just talk, and everyone talks, Mustang. I've been to Yousewell, if you want to talk about being unwelcome in a place, and it didn't seem like a big deal as long as I kept my head down."

"Get to the point, Fullmetal," Roy snapped. "Are you telling me that you're being threatened down there? That you've _been_ threatened and you've been ignoring it?"

"Not _threatened_," Ed stressed. "I thought it was just talk! Talk and attitude! And it wasn't a big deal when it was just me! I've faced worse than some mumbling hick from Rush Valley with a big gun. But." Here he took a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea that guilt had caused to rise in his stomach. "But they're bringing Winry into it, okay? And... and..."

"All right there," Roy rescued Ed, not forcing him to try and finish the story. Both were well aware of what had happened the last time Winry was used against Ed, and in Ed's eyes this was much more dangerous. At least last time if he obeyed Bradley he could pretend Winry was safe; now he felt helpless, unsure of how to ensure her safety here in Rush Valley. There was, in only one solution. "Is she - do you -"

"I need you to do me a favor," Ed blurted out. "Who's in charge of the veteran benefits? I know it has to be a project. Who's managing the military clinics and the veteran health care?"

"For the love of - Do you pay attention to anything outside of your own little world?" Roy spluttered, indignant. "General Hammett, that's who. He's only -"

"Can you get a hold of him?" Ed interrupted. "I'm sure he needs a good automail engineer."

"Fullmetal, are you asking me to get your girlfriend a contract?" Roy demanded. "Because I -"

"It'll get her out of Rush Valley." That was the most important thing. "It'll get her away from the city. And she's good enough, Mustang, you know she is. The military probably doesn't _deserve_ her work."

Roy was silent for a long moment. "And you want me to wrangle this for you?"

"As a favor!" Ed protested. "I don't ask you for _anything_, and this isn't even for me!"

"It is too for you!" Roy argued. "And you ask me for _everything_! Don't you still owe me money? What happened to that debt?"

"Oh come on! How tight are your purse strings?!"

"I do not _carry a purse_!"

"Of course not," Ed smirked into the phone receiver. "You don't need a purse. Hawkeye carries all your money for you, doesn't she?"

"Fullmetal-"

"Do you get a weekly allowance?"

"Fullmetal, we are getting off of the _point_-"

"You're right," Ed nodded, running a tired hand through his bangs. "I need a contract for Winry so she can get out of the city. She'll leave if she has a good reason."

"Is she even going to want to work for-"

"She'll take it," Ed interjected confidently.

"Will you stop interrupting me?" Roy demanded. "Do it again and I'm going to make you talk to Havoc and then nothing will get done." Off in the background, Ed heard a wounded _"Hey!"_ "Has she actually asked for this? I'm sure Hammett will be glad to take her. I know he's heard her name before."

"I'll talk to her," Ed told him, jumping up and pacing the length that the phone cord would allow. "This would be great for her."

"Please," Roy snorted. "And I'm sure you haven't considered at all the fact that she'd be living closer to you?"

"Well!" Ed said brightly, "You always tell me that my trips to Rush Valley affect my productivity."

"Gee," Roy wondered sarcastically, "I wonder what you'll use as an excuse once you can't use Rush Valley anymore."

"Guess we'll find out, won't we?" Ed glanced at the clock. He had told Winry he'd come back to the shop once he secured a room. "Get me that contract Mustang. Its, uh," he'd started to say that it was important to him, but at the last minute he faltered. It was still strange, to acknowledge Winry so boldly with words; his actions had always been good enough. Belatedly, his mind started to run back through the conversation, trying to remember if he'd said anything out of line, if he'd given Mustang any more ammunition for teasing. As it was, he was sure, Roy would be calling in the favor for this contract for _years_.

"Don't worry Fullmetal," Roy saved him from his own thoughts once again. "I'll get Hawkeye on it. It'll be done tomorrow."

They hung up, and Ed paced the room a few more times, lost in his thoughts. This was the best solution he could think of, especially since he was so sure that Winry could flourish in this position. It would take her out of Rush Valley, which was unpredictable, and it would give her the opportunity to work with people who needed her, let her help people the way her parents did.

There were other benefits too, Ed's mind reminded him. Winry would be in Central, closer to him like he wanted. And surely working within a military contract meant that there'd be less of a reason for her to be working so closely with automail equipped with weapons. There was something gross about Winry building a gun to work into an automail limb, and there was no way she'd get requests for them in Central the way she did in Rush Valley; it was only in the southern city that the custom firearms were very prevalent. Ed was cheered by the thought. This was ideal.

He couldn't wait to tell her.

* * *

Exactly as Roy had promised, it was done the next day. A courier delivered a telegram for Ed at the inn well after dinner, after he had spent the majority of the afternoon away from Garfield's, mostly pacing as he waited for some contact from Central. He'd stayed at the shop until late into the night, half-heartedly considering ignoring the bed waiting for him at the inn in order to stay up just in case someone came back for round two. Winry had overruled that idea, pointing out that with the entire block on alert that if anyone came back they'd be caught in minutes, and offering to let him sleep at the shop if he wanted.

Ed would never admit it, but it was something of a relief to spend time away from the shop; he'd spent most of the morning over there, and the atmosphere in the shop was nigh unbearable. Garfield seemed on the verge of tears most of the time, even as he tried to act as cheerful as possible with everyone who came into the shop. Winry was trying to smile and stay as positive as possible in light of the situation, but Ed could see the hidden tenseness in her shoulders, and the clip to her tone every time she spoke. The customers were no better; Winry had told him before that the clients didn't like when their mechanics were harassed, and she wasn't kidding. At times, Garfield's seemed to resemble one of those supply shops in the middle of town, everyone packed shoulder to shoulder and only a quarter of them there for any real maintenance.

For the most part, they pretended not to see Ed, though none appeared surprised by his presence at the shop. He noticed, however, that there was a lack of discussion about the military; only concern about finding those responsible for the act and vehement wishes that the military wouldn't be brought in to investigate.

The majority of the talk was gossip and hearsay. Everyone would only reassure Garfield and Winry that whoever had done this would be tracked down, that the clients would take care of them. It wasn't the first time there had been lines drawn in the sand in Rush Valley. Clients were fiercely loyal to those who provided them service. As relieving as it was for Ed to know that Winry had people on her side here in town, he'd feel better once he knew they were both on their way back to Central.

And here, creased in his hands, was the first step in that process: it wasn't an actual contract, not even close. But it was an acknowledgment of an offer, a brief sketching out of details with an invitation for further negotiations. It was, in short, Winry's ticket out of Rush Valley. Ed's heart felt lighter than it had felt in weeks as he walked the familiar path back to Garfield's, and it seemed that his mood was spreading. He noticed that more people seemed to be out and about; the overall atmosphere was still cautious, but citizens were slowly recovering and venturing out again. The streets were still not nearly as packed as Ed was used to seeing them, but that came as a relief to Ed. It was as if the city was slowly letting out a breath that it had been holding.

He was surprised to find, when he arrived, that the front gate had been pulled over the entrance and that the shop appeared empty. Ducking into the alley to slip through the side door, he threw a cautious look around the front waiting area, calling out an unsure "Hello?" before stepping behind the counter and slipping through the entrance that led past the workroom, heading towards the kitchen and the stairs that led to the second floor.

Thankfully, before he could get truly nervous, he heard the voices of Winry and her master floating out of the kitchen. Before he turned into the doorway, he overheard their conversation:

"...making a lot of the customers nervous." That was Garfield, his voice pitched low and concerned, missing that musical quality Ed was so used to.

"He's just spooked," Winry replied, sharp and dismissive. "You know why, and honestly I can't blame him."

Ed nearly tripped, realizing with sudden, absolute surety that they were talking about him, but before he could decide what to do - even debate whether or not he had to make a decision - Winry heard him coming and called out, "Hello?"

The look when she peered out was apprehensive, and when she saw it was him she didn't look much more relieved. "There you are, Ed. I was wondering what you were doing back at the inn."

He blinked at her for a moment, and then in a flash remembered his news, remembered why he'd been so excited to see her in the first place. "Oh!" He fumbled with his hands, reaching out for hers and grabbing them, dropping a kiss on her forehead before sweeping into the kitchen to wave at Garfield, declaring, "I have good news."

"Oh?" Winry gave him a gentle smile as he pressed the scrap of paper in his hands into hers before walking over to the ice box and poking his head in, looking for the lemonade. "What's this wonderful news?"

Ed waved his hands at her. "Read it! You'll see. It just arrived at the inn a little while ago. I had to argue with Mustang over it last night, but, you know, so what else is new, I have to argue with that bastard about everything."

Winry just gave him a confused look as she opened the envelope, peeling back the crease and scanning over the message. Ed beamed at her, waiting for her reaction, and couldn't help his frown when, instead of an excited shout as he'd expected, she pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down, rereading again, much more closely this time.

"What is it Winry?" Garfield asked, craning his head forward to peer over the top of Winry's hands.

Winry glanced up at Ed, blinking in confusion, before turning towards Garfield. "It looks like a message from... the government? The office of a general? Is that correct Ed?"

"Yeah, General Hammett," Ed filled in, neglecting to point out the fact that he'd only learned the man's name himself the day before. "He's in charge of veteran health care and benefits."

"And," Winry continued slowly, her eyes flitting between the message and Garfield's curious expression, "he's apparently interested in recruiting me as an automail engineer for the government."

"You could move to Central," Ed interjected. "They need someone to work with the guys who lost limbs in the war. There's been a lot of talk about creating a hub in Central so that the government can be responsible for these guy's care."

Winry was silent.

"They're recruiting you," Garfield observed. "That means you do good work."

Winry made a face at him. "I _know_ I do good work," she muttered, her eyes reading through the offer once again, as if confirming to herself that it was real, and not something she was dreaming. "I hope they're not going off of Ed as an example though. All he does is beat my stuff up."

"That means it holds up well!" Ed protested. A funny feeling was taking hold in his chest though; the comment had appeared to be made in jest, but he knew Winry well enough and could feel the chill on the end of that statement. She wasn't smiling, or clapping, or hugging him, or thanking him, like Ed had imagined when he'd thought about this last night.

"It's a good opportunity, if you want it," Garfield observed mildly, and Ed's eyes narrowed at him. He was deliberately not expressing an opinion, and Ed knew her master's opinion was important to Winry.

Finally, Winry folded the message back up and dropped it onto the table. "Master, can you let me and Ed talk about this alone?"

Garfield raised his eyebrows, surprised, but nodded and pushed away from the table. Ed could barely hear the scrape of the chair against the floor over the pounding of his heart. "Of course, Winry. Let me know if you need anything..."

As he stepped through the door, silence fell between them. Ed, nervous now, stared at Winry, who was determinedly looking down at the piece of paper sitting in front of her on the table. The tension in the room was a palpable thing, so real and solid that he could have used it in his alchemy if he'd needed to.

"You did this for me?" Winry asked, ending the awkward silence between them. "You really did this for me?" Her eyes met his, and he was surprised at the look in them: instead of joy, or happiness, there was annoyance and irritation.

Ed just nodded, licking his lips. "I did. I thought it was a good opportunity, that it would help you get out of the city -"

"So you think I'd enjoy working for the _military_?"Winry asked in disbelief.

"Why not?" Ed asked, but even as he was asking he could sense the trouble behind it. He was well aware of Winry's opinion of the military from years ago, when they were children, but he'd never considered how she still felt about it. She'd never once made a complaint about him staying on after Al had been restored. He honestly thought she liked the new government; she got along well enough with Hawkeye and Mustang and seemed invested in their accomplishments. "It would be better than being here in Rush Valley, where you never know if someone's going to attack your shop or, or go after your customers or threaten you with a gun you made with your own hands!"

"But... I never said I wanted to leave Rush Valley," Winry pointed out. "I never said I wanted to work for the military. I never said any of those things!"

This wasn't going the way Ed had envisioned, not even a little bit. The nervousness and anxiety that he'd been feeling the past two days - the last week or so, if he were to be honest - coalesced into anger. "This is-" he groped for words, gesturing angrily at the message. "This is great for you, this is a steady job, and a steady paycheck, and you'd get to work with people who need you, and you'd be closer to me!"

"And everyone would know exactly why I got this job, wouldn't they Ed?" Winry spat at him, her arms crossing, her face angry.

Ed froze, the words taking all the wind from his sails. "What do you mean by that?" She'd never said a word about him staying on with the military, not once. Why did it matter how she got the job? Because of him? Was she ashamed of him?

"Are you kidding me?" Winry gave him an unamused look, as if she pitied how incredibly stupid he was acting. "You said it yourself the other day. Everyone knows that I'm your mechanic Ed. Everyone knows you work for the military. You don't think they'll put two and two together if they see that now I'm working for the military?"

"I-But-" The other day that hadn't been a big deal! Now it was part of her argument? "Nobody will care! They've seen your work. It's amazing! Who cares if you're my mechanic?"

"Everyone will!" Winry protested. "My work is not amazing _because_ I'm your mechanic. Do you think they know that?"

"That's not what I mean at all!" Ed objected, putting both arms to the table and glaring at her.

Some part of him realized that this was spiraling out of control, but mostly he was angry; couldn't she have been grateful for the effort he'd made for her? "The point is that you'll get out the city! Come on Winry, you can't tell me that you're happy here, you can't tell me you're not worried about those idiots with their stupid guns and the stupid stuff they do when they drink! They've already gone after you once!"

"Just because _you're_ worried doesn't mean I am," Winry rebutted stubbornly. "You don't live in the city Ed! You don't know what it's like all the time! And just because you feel guilty about Mr. Garfield's shop being vandalized doesn't mean that you should go out and try to shove me into a job that I never asked for! That I never wanted!"

Ed scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired. "I don't understand," he admitted, attempting - and failing - to swallow his anger down. "Don't you think you can do better than this? Don't you want to do more than these commissions and these guns? Don't you want to actually help people? What's wrong with this?" he demanded. "It's perfect for you!"

"Do better – than – actually –" Winry went quiet, dumbly repeating his own words back at him. "What exactly do you mean by do better than this, Ed? In what way am I not helping people?"

"Oh come on, Winry." He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him, because honestly, it was so clear, so _obvious_ to him what exactly he meant. "You're better than this. You're better than guns. You don't need those types of commissions. I don't even know why you're wasting your time with them."

"I'm wasting my time," Winry parroted back at him. She looked almost shocked, as if she'd been slapped across the face. "That's what you think I'm doing. Wasting my time. Wasting my time by improving my work."

"Seriously Winry, give me a break," Ed had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Do you think you're improving anything with the guns?" His tone became low, soothing, wheedling. "Why don't you come to Central with me? What's so bad about Central? About this contract? What's wrong with working for the military?"

"Because I don't only want to be known as Edward Elric's mechanic!" Winry shot at him, her voice rising to almost impossible pitch, her tone sharp and mocking. "There has to be more to me than that! Especially now that I know that my last two years of work here has been _pointless_, thank you Ed."

"What's wrong with being my mechanic?!" Ed demanded, one of his fists pounding on the table. He'd never heard anything like this from Winry before; she'd always seemed proud of him and his work. Where was this even coming from?

"This isn't even about – " Winry was struggling for words, her face flushed and her eyes shining. "This is about my work, and who I _want_ to work for – and – and, the military, _really_ Ed? The _military_? Of all people? Ed, they all know you, and you know – "

Ed didn't even hear her finish her sentence. It felt like his ears were ringing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry. His hands were clenched into fists, his breathing heavy, and he swore he could actually _see_ his heart beating; it was pounding so hard in his chest his vision was almost blurring. Abruptly, he stood up, the chair he'd been sitting in almost falling back, and Winry jumped up with him. Her face was flushed, her eyebrows creased, her mouth turned down and angry.

She didn't want the job because of him, because she didn't want to be associated with him. Because he was part of the military, because they knew him, she was afraid of what they'd think of her because of their relationship.

"So that's it then?" he demanded, and some part of his brain knew he was yelling, he was _yelling_ at Winry, and _yeah_, he and Winry bickered, they argued, they shouted and bitched at each other but he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually yelled at her in fury like this. "That's it, you're ashamed of me? You're worried I'll trample on your good name?"

"I _never_ said that!" Winry objected. "And if you think that then you're not even listening to me!"

"Oh, don't worry," Ed snarled, stepping away from the table, brushing past her."I'm listening. I hear you loud and clear all right. You don't have to worry about _me_ ruining your career."

"Edward!" she called after him, once, but Ed was past the point of listening – past the point of wanting to argue any further. He stormed past Garfield, who was trying to pretend that he hadn't overheard every single word that had passed between the couple – and practically fled from the shop, not even caring which direction he was heading in.


	3. Chapter 3

Later - much later - Ed wished that he'd paid more attention to where he'd been walking. He'd stomped through the streets of Rush Valley for a little while, ignoring everyone around him and muttering angrily to himself. It was a well known fact that the people he cared about generally rankled him - he scolded Al for his own well being, clashed with Mustang over ideals - but he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so genuinely angry at Winry. And if he was going to be honest with himself, more than anything, he was hurt, embarrassed that she hadn't appreciated his offer, had turned away from the opportunity that he'd handed her, that he'd created just for her.

He'd only been thinking of her best interests, and how had she responded? She was ashamed to be associated with him.

At some point he'd decided that he was sick of walking the streets - unsurprising, as it made him nervous, being out in the open that way - but he wasn't sure what part of his brain had decided that one of Rush Valley's taverns was preferable to simply turning around and walking back. It was probably the same part that pointed out quietly that if Winry tried to find him, the inn would be the first place she would look. He didn't want to see her right now.

He'd taken a seat in the very corner of the bar, his shoulder leaning against the wall, and stared at the finish on the counter. He didn't even know what he was doing there, only that he was so mad, so angry, and it seemed easier to be angry in here than outside. For how cautious and quiet the streets had been lately, it seemed that the tavern was as lively as ever; the tables were filled with men drinking and laughing, and whenever he glanced over his shoulder he could see that there were several tables that had cards games going on.

Nobody really gave him a second look, until he looked down the bar and noticed that the barkeep was staring at him. For a moment Ed was suspicious – _does he recognize me?_ – and then he realized that he'd been taking up prime space without actually ordering anything. It was then that he caved and bought a drink, though it was mostly for appearances sake. When it first slid down the bar he took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste, and then commenced staring at it; watching ripples appear in the glass every time someone slapped the bar, wondering what he was doing there. He didn't mind beer, but he wasn't a drinker, had never used drinking this way before - he didn't _like_ drinking this way.

But... he reached out, took another sip, sighing as he ran his hands through his bangs and wondered what to do next. He was going to have to go back to the inn; it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go, unless he wanted to crawl into the mountains and go find Dominic. He could have tried to find Paninya, if he really wanted, if Winry hadn't gotten to her first, or if he had any idea where she lived or spent her time away from Garfield's.

But when it really came down to it, he didn't want to face anybody at all. If Winry, _Winry_ who'd faced her parent's killer and given him aid, was worried Ed would ruin her name, he didn't want to be around anybody. Who knew who else he could hurt, or who else's life he could ruin, even by trying to _help_ them.

Logically, he knew at some point that the tavern would close, that he'd have to return to the inn - and even more than that, he knew at some point he'd have to face Winry, would have to attempt to resolve this in some way - but at the moment that seemed like too big a task. He was content to sit there at the bar, angry and upset, staring into his drink and pretending that there was no one else around him, focusing on anything but the conversations and the chatter.

This strategy was suiting him well until a drink crashed against the wall above him, soaking him with ale.

Ed lurched back from the wall, knocking over his own drink and nearly falling off his stool until he caught himself with a hand on the bar. Exasperated and pissed, he wheeled around to see who had done it and was slightly surprised to find that nobody was even _looking_ at him, that the attention of the entire room - even the bartender, who was watching with narrowed eyes - was on a table near the front door, where two gentlemen were standing nose to nose, shouting at each other.

"You don't pay attention to a goddamn thing around you, do you?" one of them was shouting. "You're gonna sit there and plug your ears and close your eyes and one day you won't have a house anymore, you won't have a shop, all you'll have is some pile of dirt in the middle of town that the government swears is worth a year's pay!"

Ed looked around nervously, wondering why nobody was moving. It felt like the entire room had shrunk; what had once seemed like a spacious dining area looked too small. His eyes started to count the number of men with automail, but he quickly had to give up – almost everyone in the room was equipped with an artificial limb in _some_ way. How many of those men had guns or other weapons tucked away? He was on the other side of the room from the door too, and both men were blocking it. He was trapped, and all he could do was watch as the two men argued aggressively.

"You're the one who's not paying attention, Garrett!" the other shouted back. "You keep on blaming everyone else for your own problems instead of lookin' at yourself!"

_Garrett_... the name rang a bell in Ed's head, and his mouth dropped open in surprise as he suddenly remembered – was actually mad at himself for not recognizing it sooner. He had his back to Ed, which was the exact same view he'd given Ed a week or so ago as he stormed out of Garfield's, clipping Ed in the shoulder and knocking him over. Anger boiled in Ed's stomach as beer ran out of his hair and down his neck. Adrenaline was already pumping through him, his limbs tense; he was sure, down to his very soul, that this Mr. Garrett was involved with the recent vandalisms that had occurred throughout town. What else was he capable of? Unconsciously, his hands drifted together, preparing to defend himself or others.

He was the only one who appeared nervous; everyone else was still just staring calmly even though the tension was real and pulsing through the room. The two men were evenly matched: both the size of mountains, with arms – one flesh, one automail – the size of tree trunks, and neither one appeared to be backing down anytime soon. Ed's mind was scrambling, furious with himself, demanding to know how he'd missed this, why he wasn't paying attention, weren't his instincts sharp? Hadn't Izumi Curtis taught him better than this?

It didn't look like the bar was taking sides. Everyone was just watching to see how this was going to play out, and Ed had no idea which man had more friends on his side. If it was Garrett, he was in trouble; he was going to be trapped in a room with men who were willing to resort to acts of violence to express their hatred of the military.

"You're out of your mind if you think any of this is my fault!" Garrett roared, leaning so close to the other man their chests were almost touching. "This is all the government's fault! Parliament's taking everything away from us, and paying the Guild to help, and you all are sitting back and letting it happen!"

"Oh please," the other man – Wylie, Ed heard a patron whispering, pointing subtly – scoffed. "You're acting like a babe whose rattle has been taken away. The Guild wised up and saw you for the idiot you are, that's the only reason you got blacklisted."

Garrett shouted something incomprehensible, a yell of pure rage, and reached out, shoving his opponent as hard as he possibly could. Wylie took exactly one staggering step back before he lifted his arm and clenched his fist.

His automail whined and squealed as the panels shifted and gears rotated; in the blink of an eye, there was a machine gun facing Garrett – Garrett, and the rest of the innocent patrons who just happened to be sitting behind him.

An audible gasp rose up through the room. Ed jumped, letting out a choked shout of alarm, his instincts screaming to make them stop before someone got hurt. Garrett unleashed his own automail – a gun of much larger proportions than Wylie's – and the bartender finally started to move as well, leaning down to roll up a pant leg, uncovering his own automail.

Ed was quicker than all of them. In an act of pure impulse, faster than the blink of an eye, he clapped his hands and dropped them to the floor, watching in satisfaction as the blue energy he was so familiar with arced across the ground. The floorboards under Wylie's feet shifted, and crawled upwards, twining around his legs and chest and pinning his firearm so that it was facing upwards, stuck to the wall behind him. Garrett yelped in surprise and stumbled back, his arm held up defensively.

Silence fell over the entire bar for a full ten seconds, during which Ed congratulated himself and stepped forward between the two men. Ed cast a suspicious eye over Garrett, both of them sizing the other up, and Ed cocked an eyebrow. "I bet you have a lot of friends with red paint, don't you?" he asked in a low, bland tone.

Garrett's eyes narrowed, but Ed's attention shifted to Wylie, who was started to kick and shout, trying to free himself from his binds. "The hell?!" he demanded, wrenching his shoulders and clearly dismayed to find himself completely immobilized. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why me and not him? He had his arm out too!"

Ed snorted and rolled his eyes, not even gracing the man behind him with a glance. "Yeah, but everyone knows he's got no bullets."

Which is exactly when Garrett clubbed him over the head with his automail arm.

When Ed first opened his eyes, he assumed that he was home, in his bed back in Central. He lay there for a few seconds, trying to blink away the pain that seemed to be ringing through his skull and wondering why his thoughts were so muddled. Had he been drinking the night before? He should probably get up. Al had probably left the house for school and forgotten a pan burning on the stove or something equally brainless and Mustang was going to have his hide if he missed another meeting...

And then the tiny yet significant details that he hadn't noticed started to come into focus: the fact that the shadows from the window were falling in the wrong direction, and the noises coming through the open window were not the sounds of Central. Even the smell was different – there was something sweeter about the air, though Ed was having trouble placing it…

There was also the fact that his bedding was all wrong. He was covered up to the chin by a blue and white quilt, clearly hand stitched, light enough for spring and summer use without being too uncomfortable. His eyes narrowed as he studied it - it was familiar, but he hadn't seen it since he was a kid, back at Granny's.

His stomach lurched then, and the scope of his gaze widened, coming to rest on Winry, who was sitting in a chair near the nightstand. He opened his mouth to stay something to her, but his mouth was dry from sleep and all that came up was a choked whisper.

It caught her attention all the same. Winry's eyes lit up, and she jumped from her chair to peer over and look at him. "How're you feeling?" she asked, her voice pitched low. Ed was grateful; even that little bit made the pain in his head surge.

"Like I got hit by a train." Ed responded honestly, his eyebrows creasing as he glanced around the room.

It was tiny, barely enough room for the bed crammed in one corner and the dresser, closet, and vanity shoved into the other. Despite that it was neat, dressed up with enough little touches to make it homey: white lacy curtains were hung in the window that matched the runner across the vanity, a stack of textbooks stacked under the nightstand. There was a pile of laundry folded on top of the dresser, waiting to be put away. Ed recognized the lavender of one of Winry's jumpsuits, and realized with something akin to embarrassment that he was in Winry's bedroom. More than that, he was in Winry's bed. They _never_ spent time here; they always went to the inn to avoid embarrassing themselves in front of Mr. Garfield.

Winry's lips twisted as she looked at him. One hand reached out and brushed his bangs away; Ed belatedly realized that there was thick, white gauze wrapped around his head. "Close enough. Mr. Garrett is about the size of one."

Ed blinked, and with something akin to mortification felt vague memories of the night before begin to filter through. He'd been at the bar, there'd been two giant men, and the automail had been hiding guns – he'd been so afraid someone was going to get hurt. "I picked a fight, didn't I?" he asked in a quiet, almost ashamed tone.

Winry let out a scoffing snort, and even though it was gentle and had no real bite to it Ed felt his heart sink.

Carefully, she sat down next to him on the bed, and Ed snaked a hand from under the covers to reach for hers, crossed in her lap. She allowed him to take her hand, but before he could open his mouth - to apologize? Ask more questions? He couldn't be sure, just that the awkwardness he felt dictated he say _something_ - she started to talk over him.

"You didn't start it this time," she said, and Ed felt a small measure of relief bloom in his chest. But then, after a halting pause, added in a strained tone that belied her calm demeanor, "the bartender said that you probably stopped anything worse from happening, but… that didn't make me feel much better about you getting dragged back to me unconscious. A lot of the clients have come to the shop to tell me that you did good yesterday but…" And here she turned the full force of her gaze onto Ed, who felt something close to panic start to rise as he took in her swollen eyes and red cheeks and realized that she'd been crying. "But that's not the first time you've been dragged to me unconscious, and even if it's only the second time in all the years I've known you and you weren't missing any limbs or, or bleeding out … that didn't make it any less terrifying."

"Sorry," Ed mumbled, letting go of her hand to reach up and cup her cheek. She leaned gratefully into his touch before reaching back up and covering his hand with her own. "I'm sorry."

"It's partially my fault," She murmured, turning her head away from him again, looking back out the window. Her grip on his hand stayed tight though, her fingers entwining with his. "We fought, and we were both upset. I didn't realize what you were really upset about until you were gone."

Ed's face scrunched as he remembered their fight the day before. He'd given her that letter from Central, and he'd been so excited about the possibility of her moving to the city, so proud of himself for finding a way to help her, and then he'd been so disappointed and hurt when she'd told him she didn't want it. There weren't many people in his life who could make him feel that badly so easily.

"When you and Al were on your journey," Winry said quietly, still watching as the curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze flowing through the window, "I resolved to work as hard as I could on my automail, because I needed it to be as strong as you were. That was the only way I knew to help you."

Ed grimaced. Those had been terrible, stressful days, and the few times he'd seen Winry while he and Al were on his journey counted as both the brightest and most nerve-wracking of his journey.

"And I guess it worked, because no matter how much you beat up the automail," she continued, "you always came back. That was most important. You always came back for stronger 'mail."

"I'm sorry," Ed repeated again, because no matter what she said he knew how much it had hurt her, worried her, to see him with that beat up automail.

"And it seems like everyone knows you, Ed," she was looking down at their hands now, watching as her thumb stroked soft circles over his. "And it seems like everyone knows that I made that automail for you."

He felt a small surge of pride at those words. Her work had saved him more times than he could count.

"But," Winry bit her lip, unsure, before soldiering on, "but the Rockbells have been in the automail business since my great-great-grandfather. Five generations, Ed. That's what I want people to know me for. For the Rockbells, not for the Elrics."

Ed was silent, trying to process what she'd said and what it meant for him and whether or not he'd just been insulted, and Winry, interpreting his silence for the same reaction as the night before, hurried to reassure him:

"But I also need you to know, Ed, that I'm not ashamed of you, or your work. I could never be." She twisted around to face him, giving him a watery, uncertain smile. "And no matter how much work I do as a Rockbell, it's still to make your work easier. Because I want my automail to be the strongest. For you." A hurt look flashed across her face, as if recalling something painful, and then she added, "That's why I wanted to learn everything I could about automail, Ed. Including custom limbs with weapons and firearms. Who knows how I could put that to use someday? I – I can't believe you when you say I'm wasting my time with those, and I don't like that you see it that way."

There was a distinct waver to her voice, and never before had he regretted words spoken in the heat of the moment. He licked his lips, and studied her face, wondering how to reply. There was still such a personal sting to her rejection, an ache in his chest that couldn't be blamed entirely on the fact that she hadn't wanted the job he'd offered her. There was more to it: the fact that he'd been in a relationship with Winry for years now, had known he was in love with her since he could comprehend what that meant, had counted her as a friend since they were children; he was embarrassed, and maybe less because she hadn't appreciated his offer and more because he couldn't believe that he had misread her this badly. Wasn't he supposed to know her better than anyone?

And the fact that he had hurt her on top of everything else – he hadn't wanted that. But there were still too many nights the sight of Winry, staring down Scar with wild eyes and that gun clasped in both hands, passed through his dreams. The firearms made him nervous, and the thought of her studying them to improve _his_ automail -

"I know," he finally mumbled, wishing he had something less stupid to say. Ed did know, too - she'd told him years ago that her work was for him, had seen the proof of it in the endless all-nighters and blue prints and test runs and research. Even more than that, he wished he had a better way to explain himself. How did he explain to her how he was worried for her, that he needed her to stay safe, especially now that they'd earned it and even more than that, how did he just explain that his actions had been out of love, and not any disrespect for her beliefs and principles? "I know," he repeated dumbly. "I'm sorry. I just – I saw you – that time – with the gun -"

"In Central? With Scar?" she asked, and the fact that she knew exactly what he was talking about without any hesitation told him that maybe it had left a lasting impression on her the same as it had on him.

"Yeah," Ed croaked. He didn't like thinking about it, hated that ache that rose in his chest at the memory. "Yeah, with Scar. That was scary, and, and your hands can – should – do better…"

Winry gave him an appraising look, and thankfully this time they were lacking the hurt that had appeared when he'd said something similar during their fight the day before. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Ed was surprised when she changed the subject by admitting, "I talked to Brigadier General Mustang."

Ed perked, jumped so fast he almost sat up before wincing as the pain lanced behind his eyes. "What?!" he demanded, slapping a hand over his eyes. "Why? What did you have to talk to him about? Does he know I got into a fight? He'll kill me!"

"He's not going to kill you," Winry rolled her eyes and admonished him. "He was very concerned when I told him. And I had to explain why you weren't coming back to work right away." After a pause, while Ed grumbled, she added in a tone so quiet Ed almost didn't hear, "And I had to thank him for putting me in touch with General Hammett."

For a minute Ed lay there, while the words sunk in. "In touch...?"

"I called and spoke to him." Winry told him. "We talked, a little bit, about how the contracts were set up and what my options were."

"I just wanted you near me, so you could be safe," Ed suddenly blurted out. "That's all. I don't..." _Stupid_, he felt so stupid, and his words felt stupid too. "I don't like being so far from you. Especially with everything going on here... I know you like it here, and I don't care where you want to live as long as you're safe."

Winry flushed red and looked away, back down at their hands instead of his face. He knew he usually relied on his actions to express that sort of stuff, didn't really say those kinds of things, and maybe, just maybe, from the look on Winry's face she wasn't used to _hearing_ those kinds of things. "I was never really in danger Ed. I promise you," she insisted gently. "I told you that. The city takes care of its own."

He frowned, because part of his mind was still adamant that she'd been close to danger, could have been hurt, but maybe he should have listened closer before, actually trusted her confidence. Gathering up his courage, he finally said, "You can stay here if you want. I don't care." His eyes darted away, unable to bear eye contact. "But I'd like if it you wanted to live with me."

"I do want to live with you, Ed," Winry said slowly, blushing so hard even the tips of her ears were the color of tomatoes. "So when I spoke to General Hammett, I told him..." She stopped, blew her bangs out of her eyes, and then said in a rush, "I told him that once I was released from my apprenticeship, if he was still interested, we could negotiate."

Her eyes scanned over Ed's face, looking for a reaction, and she was apparently surprised when all he did was blink and mumble, "Okay."

"It's just, he told me I could sign a contract just for a blanket rate for veterans, and I'd still be my own independent worker." She was still talking too fast, still waiting for him to interject in some way. "I could have my own shop, under the Rockbell name. I could still take commissions, if I wanted. I would have that freedom, to run my business the way I wanted, and you're right, I could help people who really need me too."

Ed winced before he could help himself. Some part of him recognized that he'd just been told good news, but his brain had gotten caught on one part of that statement. He tried to swallow, but his throat was still so _dry_. "You'll still take commissions?"

"If they come up," Winry answered, and there were so many things hanging between them, so much that Ed still wanted to say about her designing firearms, but before he could think of how to explain them without insulting her, she continued, "But the market in Central isn't like Rush Valley. We'll see how many I actually get."

Ed looked away, his eyes turning towards the window. There were people out there, he knew, wearing Winry's work. What had she bragged to him all those years ago? Her first custom design had included a machine gun. She'd had sparkles in her eyes. "You're work is amazing without the commissions," he finally mumbled, still refusing to look at her.

"Oh _Ed_." She let go of his hands, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him smack on the lips. Startled, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, merely held her as she pulled away, nuzzled his cheek and hairline. "Commissions don't always mean firearms, dummy," she whispered against his ear. "And firearms don't always mean danger."

She kissed him again, and looked at him hopefully, and Ed drudged up a weak smile. Maybe she was right. Maybe they'd just have to wait and see. His smile grew a little more genuine. "I won't have to take the late train anymore."

Winry laughed, a real, true Winry-giggle, deep and musical and one of the most beautiful sounds on the planet. "Mr. Mustang had a few things to say about you taking the late train on the phone with him."

"Ugh, Winry, don't talk about him when I don't feel good," Ed complained, putting a hand to his forehead dramatically. "I might throw up."

She laughed again and stretched out next to him on the bed. "Well, Al is taking the train into town tonight," she said. "Maybe we can get him to talk some sense into Roy."

Ed considered the idea. "No good," he finally declared. "Roy's biased against the Elric name."

Winry snorted and rolled her eyes. "The only thing Roy is biased against is irresponsible alchemists who borrow money and fall asleep during their meetings."

"It was worth it," Ed declared, and maybe the rest of the conversation had emboldened him, because he added with absolutely no fear, "I did those things for you."

* * *

Alphonse arrived early, shortly before dinner, carrying a suitcase, a duffel bag, and a look of concern on his young face. Garfield had directed the young man upstairs, and when he first appeared in the doorway Ed and Winry didn't even notice him; he announced himself by dropping his bags on the floor and declaring in a dramatic tone, "I hear my brother has a head injury."

"Alphonse!" Winry exclaimed, jumping up to hug him and draw him further into the room. "You made the train!"

"How are you, Ed?" Al asked, passing a critical eye over his brother. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." Ed pointed to the bandage going across his forehead and around his skull. "This makes it look worse than it was. It was just a knock."

"Well then," Al's lips twisted, his expression still unamused, but Ed could see relief rising in his eyes. "It's not like you ever use your head, so at least you didn't injure a body part you'll miss."

"Har har," Ed shot back. "Did you remember to pack clean underwear or did you only bring books out with you?"

"All right you two," Winry interjected, but she was grinning and Ed could tell she was on the verge of laughing. "Alphonse, be nice to your brother when he can't fight back fairly."

"Hey!" Ed squawked, but Winry sat down on the edge of the bed with him again and gestured for Al to take the chair she'd been sitting in. "I told you I'm fine!"

"And I'll believe Winry when she says the same," Al responded easily. "What happened? The last I heard there was some big emergency involving Winry and the next thing I know I'm getting a phone call about _Ed_ being injured."

"There was no emergency about me," Winry said firmly, glancing over at Ed, as if waiting for him to protest. "There were some idiots in town who vandalized some buildings because the mechanics had ties to the military, but the damage was all repairable and nobody got hurt."

"Mr. Garfield's was one of them, wasn't it?" Al asked, leaning forward. "I saw the windows when I was walking in."

"Yes, Mr. Garfield's was one of the shops," Winry confirmed. "Ed ran into the guy responsible in one of the taverns in the center of town and forgot that unloaded does not equal disarmed."

"So what happened?" There was an eager tone to Al's voice, but before Winry could respond a confused look clouded his face. "And why were you in a tavern, Ed?"

Ed and Winry automatically turned to look at each other. Neither one spoke, and after a moment Al scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You two. Seriously."

"We got into a little fight," Winry admitted. "Ed left, and the next thing I know the bartender and two of my clients are dragging him back to the shop, unconscious and bleeding from the head."

She gave Ed a disappointed look, and he frowned in response. "I'm pretty sure I already apologized for that," he protested. And then, suddenly, a thought occurred to him: "What happened to that guy anyway?"

"Who, Mr. Garrett?" Winry asked slowly, and when he nodded she turned her eyes away to look down at the floor. Ed felt his heartbeat pick up a little bit at her hesitancy, and finally, right when he was about to demand an answer, she replied, "Nobody has heard from him since the fight. From what I was told, once you went down the entire bar flipped out into a full brawl."

"_Nobody_ has heard from him?" Ed asked in disbelief. The guy had been making himself as visible as possible the last few weeks from town, and then he suddenly disappeared?

Winry grimaced, and she was still refusing to look at Ed. "I think they ran him out of town. It's happened before, I've been told. And everyone was worried about the military being brought in to investigate."

"Ran him out of town?" Ed repeated. A cold feeling had taken over his chest; he'd been trapped in the desert with automail before, and it had felt like he was boiling from the inside out. "Actually ran him out of town?"

Winry was studying her hands. "That's what the clients have basically told me. They said that he wouldn't bother us anymore, that they'd made an example of him for his anti-government friends. Told me that they take care of their own, that Mr. Garrett had betrayed the town the second he got blacklisted."

Ed mouthed for words. "You really weren't kidding when you told me clients don't like when their mechanics are harassed." He felt kind of sick; there was no doubt in his mind that Mr. Garrett was a menace, a danger to everyone around him but… to leave a man in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on his back?

There was another curious feeling behind that nauseated, disgusted emotion as well: hadn't Winry told him? Hadn't she told him that the city would take care of itself? That everything would end up okay? And he hadn't listened to her…

"I don't like it," Winry mumbled. "If he can get to a road, hopefully he can find a ride out of town, but I don't like to see anyone made an example of that way. The whole town has calmed down, you can tell when you walk outside, but it shouldn't have happened that way."

The three of them were silent for a long minute. Still feeling a little sick, Ed stared at the window, watching as the light grew dimmer with the setting sun.

"Maybe," Al was the one who finally broke the silence. "Maybe it's best if Ed and I aren't around town for a little while. When will it be safe to travel?"

"I'm _fine_!" Ed insisted, and Winry smiled gently at him.

"He is probably fine for a train ride," she agreed. "And I'm going to go with you."

"What?" Ed felt his heart leap. Al raised his eyebrows, glancing uneasily at Ed. Was she going to listen to him? Make the move to Central? "Are you meeting with General Hammett?"

Winry made a face at him. "I already told you, I won't talk to him until my apprenticeship is up. No, I'm actually going to meet with Brigadier General Mustang, to talk about what's been happening in the city."

"You're meeting with that bastard?" Ed scowled. "That's the only reason?"

A slow grin crossed Winry face, and she reached out to brush his bangs from his eyes. "Ok, Ms. Riza and Mr. Mustang asked for my perspective on how to help the city, and when I mentioned it to Master Garfield he suggested I take the whole week because of all the excitement."

"That's more like it," Ed nodded in satisfaction. A long week would be good for the two of them to relax and enjoy each other before they both had to go back to work. He would be lying if he didn't admit that he was eager for that, a chance for the two of them to spend a little time together without worrying about what was going on in the city or her clients or his work.

"He'll probably be glad to see the back of me, after all this trouble," Winry sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if he released me from my apprenticeship early."

Ed considered the idea. There was the promise of good things to come with the end of her apprenticeship. "I'd be okay with that," he finally said.

* * *

"The train leaves in twenty minutes Ed!" Al appeared in the doorway, a harried look on his face.

Ed gave him an aggravated look over his shoulder. "I'm so glad you took a train out to Rush Valley and missed two days of school so that you could tell me what time it is. I'm already packed. I'm waiting for Winry. Go downstairs and talk to Garfield and Paninya."

He'd already turned away, but he could practically feel Al roll his eyes as he turned and walked back down the stairs. He heard Al mumbling under his breath: "_Winry's coming with us, it's not like you have to kiss her goodbye or anything..._"

Winry grimaced at Ed, craning her head to look over his shoulder from the other side of the bed. "Is that his normal temper? He's usually so pleasant when I visit."

"Not at all," Ed told her, plopping down on the bed and crossing his arms. "He remembered your name and didn't trip on the stairs from having his nose in a book. He's surprisingly social today."

Winry laughed, and unbidden a smile rose up on his own face. They had spent another day in Rush Valley, while both Winry and Garfield made sure they were absolutely positive Ed was fine – "_Sometimes the effects of head injuries aren't apparent, Ed,_" – and now that he had been given a clean bill of health by both they were fixing to catch the late train back to Central.

Even though she should have been finishing her packing, Winry was gazing out the window, towards the street outside. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ed shifted uncomfortably. It was still strange, being in her bedroom - back home in Risembool Winry's bedroom didn't have the same taboo, seeing as he'd grown up with it, but her bedroom here in Rush Valley was different. It was weird for him to think he'd spent a night in her bed, whether or not she'd actually been there with him. The next time he came to Rush Valley he was definitely going back to the inn. The inn lacked a certain intimacy here in a room that was actually hers; Ed found it intimidating.

"Have you thought about what you're going to tell Mustang?" he asked, watching as Winry turned her attention from outside so she could buckle her last bag and set it on the floor. "It's not often a civilian gets a meeting with a brigadier general like him."

She turned towards him, cocked her head, and twisted her lips in thought. "I don't know. And it's nothing official," she scolded, shaking her head at him when he scoffed. "It's not!" she insisted. "I'm just going to meet him for lunch and tell him about the city. From someone who actually lives here and not from someone who's biased against it."

"I am not biased against it!" Ed protested, reaching out and snagging one wrist, pulling her closer to him. "It's biased against me!"

Winry fixed him with an unimpressed look, and Ed shrugged. "Maybe it's mutual." he conceded.

"That's what I thought," Winry agreed. "And anyway, I don't think Mr. Mustang can do much. I think we're going to have to talk to this General Hammett. If he can make the veterans happy, that'll help a lot."

Ed pondered this point; veterans made up the majority of Rush Valley's population, which accounted for the strong feelings that ran on both sides of the issue. Too many people had either been screwed over by Bradley or owed their lives to the military; it was never going to be a cut and dry subject. But Ed could see Winry had a point. If the new government could make some overtures towards the veterans, maybe it would prove to those who were distrustful that Central really was trying to mend their ways, and reassure those who were loyal that their faith wasn't misplaced.

Still, there were so many men, in a city so large. He wasn't sure how it could be done, but he had to trust Winry's judgment. She knew the culture better than he did; ignoring her opinion had gotten him into trouble before.

"A lot of people were abandoned to Rush Valley during the wars," Ed absently commented.

"The city is amazing because of them," Winry finally murmured, her hands fiddling with the brass buckle on her bag. "Those are the people who lost everything and built it back up again. Automail technology is where it's at because of them. The government should be paying them proper respect." Her eyes came back to Ed, and she looked a little guilty as she admitted, "I don't think they're entirely wrong, Ed."

Ed grimaced and said nothing - he had no problem with people fighting for their due and he had no problem with people worried about change in the government and how it would impact them, but he did have a problem with anyone who resorted to violent acts to solve their problems.

"Hey." He elected to change the subject and tugged gently on her wrist again, pulling her even closer. "I'm glad you're going back with me." It was only for a visit, only to talk to Mustang about the situation in the city, only long enough for him to get really comfortable with her presence in the apartment before she had to leave again, but he was glad anyway. Even though it was going to be torture to send her back to the city without him, it was going to be that much better when she returned to Central later.

She smiled and sat next to him on the bed, pressed flush from shoulder to knee. "I'm glad too," Winry said quietly, wrapping an arm around his and leaning against him. "Are we finally going to go to that restaurant Mr. Mustang told you about?"

"I'll try to make reservations again," Ed responded absently, looking down at where her hand was resting on top of his. "Don't tell him about that, by the way."

Winry laughed, practically giggling, and reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face towards hers. "I imagine he's going to have even more suggestions for you in a few months."

"When you move to Central?" Ed rolled his eyes and wondered vaguely why they were talking about Mustang when their faces were so close he could practically feel her breath against his lips. "He's going to be unbearable."

"You'll get through," Winry told him simply, and before he could agree - _because he'd be coming home to her_ - leaned forward and captured his lips.

It was one of those slow, languid kisses, the kind that awoke a fire deep within Ed and had the promise of much more behind it. He disentangled his arm from hers and wrapped it around her back, pressing her against him as she clutched his shoulders, and he was gone, totally lost in Winry until she finally pulled away with a soft laugh, licking swollen lips. "We're going to miss our train," she panted, grinning.

"Yeah," he agreed distractedly. _Our train_. He liked the sound of that. Standing up, he picked up Winry's bag and held out a hand in invitation. "Let's go home."

_End_

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I hope everyone enjoyed! As I mentioned before, this story was illustrated as part of the contest - please visit dzioo's Livejournal by removing the spaces here (http : // dzioo . livejournal . com / 65003 . html) and allegratheneko's DeviantArt here (http : // allegra -the- neko . deviantart . com / art / Mechanic -s- Bouquet - 156202132) and compliment them on their absolutely fantastic work on this piece.


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